Broken Orbit
by Wahoogal06
Summary: Established S/U. What happens when an accident on an away mission leaves our favorite couple out of sync? How will they each react and can they find their way back?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Hi all! I just wanted to write this note and explain a few things really quickly; I'll try not to post too many author's notes in the future. First I'd like to say that this piece was inspired by a short ff story written by Jesse-Kips; I won't tell you the title because I don't want anyone to get a sense of how this story is going to go, but I _will _say that I have Jesse-Kips' blessing to write this (and that means A LOT). It's _mostly _Spock/Uhura but I do try and give all the characters some time. I'm giving this story a T rating for now but may change it to M later-but don't worry, I'll try and give plenty of notice before I do that though. Also, this is my first attempt at Star Trek fan fiction of any kind and I'm _bound_ to screw up some details...so please don't bash me too hard for it. I researched certain items as best I could but I get the impression that that isn't always enough.

Lastly I am my own beta, and despite numerous careful edits there are bound to be some errors here too. Alas, I have no one to blame but myself.

Oh yeah, and standard disclaimers apply, I own nothing except original characters, yadda, yadda, yadda. Enjoy Broken Orbit and remember, if you like it shoot me a review; it's the only type of payment fan fic authors ever get!

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

_**Anguillida - Detention Center, **_**Stardate 2261.30, 1921 hours. **"Stupid, slimy, ugly buggers," McCoy grumbled under his breath. He slid along the wall behind Jim and the rest of the team as they crept toward the room where they hoped Lt. J.G. Marks and Commander Spock were being held. "And non-hostile my _ass_. Next time Starfleet brass oughta do their homework before sending us on our merry way. Jim, if the Federation ever wants you to make contact with any eel-like species again you tell them no, you hear me? _N-O_."

"Sure Bones. Whatever you say," the captain replied quietly before shuffling on ahead with his phaser outstretched.

_Well damn._Jim was just as worried about their missing crew as he was, most likely more, and with good reason. Marks was as green as the day he left the Academy and Spock was—well he had almost as good a knack for getting into trouble as their fearless leader. Who knew what might be happening to him right now?

Len ran a hand down his face and smothered a sigh. This was going to be a long night.

He wished he knew how the hell things went wrong, but being near the back of the landing party made it difficult to eavesdrop. The Anguillidans spoke briefly to the Captain and Marks before growing hostile; then he heard the rapid rise in hiss and clicks as they discussed amongst themselves whatever it was that set them off. Turns out it was a serious enough offense they had to be carted off to a jail cell.

He would've rather suffered through the high-falootin' welcome banquet instead.

They'd been stripped of their phasers and communicators—even his medkit was taken away which bothered him somethin' awful—before being locked in. Long ago McCoy thought that dungeons like these only existed in old horror films but since his enlistment he'd learned dark and dingy cells were universal. Thinking of all the alien germs lurking about he tentatively picked his way to a spot in the corner and sat down to wait. It was only a matter of time before Uhura noticed their missed check-in and then Scotty would either beam them back up (unlikely) or Jim and Spock would eventually drag him in on some hare-brained escape plan and effect their own rescue (very likely).

Either way he figured he'd rest up while he could.

Things had been going swimmingly in the latter direction for the last half hour until several Anguillidans came and, after a discussion amongst themselves, hauled Marks and Spock away without explanation.

Like he said, if it wasn't Kirk getting into trouble than it was the damned hobgoblin. The two of them were making him prematurely gray…correction; gray_er_.

Another half hour later in a scheme involving him, Kirk, Lieutenant Reichlen, a belt buckle, some chewing gum and one of his good socks (from his favorite pair too, a cashmere set sent to him by Joanna on his last birthday) they were out of their cell and reunited with their gear, stalking the halls in search of their friends.

The hiss clicks could be heard emanating from a room at the far end of the passageway where they were headed. Through the light seeping out under the door McCoy could see the Slimers' feet as they shuffled past and he shuddered.

"Alright," Jim announced with a resolute nod to the group. "Let's roll."

_Every time. Every g-ddamn time. _Just when Len thought his friend had _finally_ matured the reckless Iowa kid returned and was currently rushing headlong down the hall ahead of Chief Giotto and kicking in the door. After a tense and tumultuous few minutes of heavy phaser fire and shouting he finally heard someone inside cry 'Doctor!' and he dashed in to treat the injured.

They looked to be in some kind of laboratory but he didn't study it much. At his feet lay the Anguillidans, a few writhing in pain while the rest were stunned into silence. Marks appeared to be on the floor of a cage and Spock was strapped to a table with a halo-like device wrapped around his head and shoulders. Both appeared to be unconscious…at least he _hoped_ they were unconscious. If they weren't than he didn't want to be the one to tell Jim they were dead.

"Get him out of there!" the Captain shouted to the ensign at his left. She worked on freeing the Junior Communications Officer while he went to work frantically yanking at the bindings around their First Officer. From somewhere behind him he could hear a security officer comm'ing the _Enterprise_ for an emergency beam out and he quickly joined Jim in freeing Spock.

The First Officer was limp as a rag doll and pale, reminding McCoy of the last time he'd entered a healing trance after an encounter on Obsidian Prime. The man lost a lot of blood that time and looked just as gray then too. Grunting as the full weight of his friend was suddenly thrust on his shoulders he fervently hoped things weren't as bad as all that; they almost hadn't gotten Spock back that time.

A sudden rush of slimy footsteps was heard in the hall.

"Get down!"

The warning was barely out of Jim's mouth before more Anguillidan guards flooded the room and both parties renewed their fire. Len ducked for cover and winced as he heard the unmistakable sound of a thick Vulcan skull connecting with the stone floor. _Great,_ _now he'll likely be concussed on top of everything else…_

The familiar swirl of the transporter beam encompassed them all.

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><p><em><strong>Anguillida - Detention Center, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.30, 1850 hours**_**.**_ Despite the species' similarity in appearance Spock deduced that the latest addition to their party included not more prison guards but scientists. His grasp on the Anguillidan language was not what it should have been but he quickly surmised that he and Lieutenant Marks were soon to be the subjects of a highly unethical experiment—one that he had no wish to take part in.

"Lieutenant."

"Y-yes Sir?"

Spock suppressed the very humanly urge to sigh. He had only himself and the Captain to blame for the young man's utter lack of preparation. This was only Lieutenant Marks' fourth away mission in the last three years and his first hostile encounter. Nyota was usually requested to join such landing parties but for some inexplicable reason the Captain decided to have her remain on the ship.

He was incredibly grateful for that decision.

Returning to the situation at hand he calculated the number of ways he and the Lieutenant could successfully subdue their captors and return to free their colleagues. Spock knew that he could take at least two of the Anguillidans down before the others had a chance to react. The rest of the group would prove challenging but he was certainly capable of defending himself.

Depending on Marks' abilities Spock calculated a 47.8% chance of success. The odds, while not heavily in their favor, were ones he would have to take.

Calm as could be he reached out and nerve-pinched the guard immediately to his right. "I believe it is time for us to depart."

To his credit the Lieutenant reacted admirably, his formal combat training kicking in within seconds of the first punch being thrown. That said, their captors were still quick to subdue him and Spock strove on alone, a combination of nerve pinches and suus mahna techniques enabling him to fend off unwanted blows. His defenses held for 3.52 minutes before one of the Anguillidan men was able to lay a sinewy hand on his arm; 1500 volts of electricity jolted through his body and seared the sleeve of his uniform. The shock stunned him, impeding his body's response time by 4.7 seconds, and his captors quickly caught on to the weakness. Soon hands were being lain all over him, sending a mass of pain and _shock anger surprise hurt rage curiosity intrigue_.

The last conscious thought he had was of his adun'a*. His only regret—illogical though it was—was that she had not yet shared her secret with him before beaming down.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Anguillida - Detention Center, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.30, 1903 hours.** "The pale one is lacking," Ri-tek announced to the lab. "It would be a waste of our time to continue. Set him aside." His underlings hurried to undo the restraints and release the subject from the table; once they had him upright a thick red line trailed down his forehead between his eyes. Ri-tek wanted to learn more about this substance but his orders came from the Minok himself and time was of the essence; he would have to satisfy his own curiosity once they were through with this first task. "Bring the tall one here. We'll see if he's better suited."

His subordinates swapped the men in and out of the cage, strapping the next one firmly down. In a matter of minutes a sample was extracted and analyzed. Ri-tek sat before the view screen and carefully studied the results.

"Fascinating," Shthena remarked over his shoulder as she leaned in to review the data.

"Yes. Quite." Turning to the rest of his team he instructed, "Begin full extraction procedures immediately."

The Minok would be pleased.

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.30, 1927 hours. **"Where the hell is my triage team?"

He struggled to keep him and Spock upright on the transporter pad, the slight man being dead weight in his arms. No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Chapel, Klein, and Ofunzi rushed in, just like they'd trained bi-weekly since the start of their mission.

Never could be too careful when Jim was the Captain, after all.

"What happened?" Chris asked as they got Spock on the gurney. Once he was strapped in they took off at a run.

"Let's just say we had a hell of a welcoming party," he answered with a grimace. "Stats?"

"BP's 65 over 30, heart rate 177, temperature 26.32 degrees Celsius, breathing shallow and irregular. There are also second and third degree burns on the upper half of his body." Christine frowned at the tricorder in her hands. "Doctor, I can't make any sense of these readings. He's not in a healing trance but he's not entirely unconscious either; and aside from the burns the Commander is physically fine."

Len knew that already but Chapel's confirmation and concern only made him scowl more. The readings were highly irregular, even for their rather unique colleague. He glanced at Spock again and willed the man to wake up, if only to tell him what the hell happened down there and why.

The sickbay doors opened at their approach as they rounded the last corner. He looked for M'Benga only to find him busy treating a patient of his own behind a half-closed curtain. Never mind, he'd deal with it later; he needed to get back to Spock.

"Alright, let's get him up on table 3 and bring his temperature back up; and somebody get me 50 cc's of Myclornifin. If he's been poisoned then we need to detox him fast, see if we can't bring him around so he can explain just what in the blazes happened." The team sprang to life and McCoy turned to reach for the hypospray; as he did so he watched Ofunzi wipe away the trickle of emerald blood that snaked down the Commander's forehead onto his nose.

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.30, 2113 hours. **He sank into his familiar seat in Bones' office and waited. Now that the good doctor had had a chance to look him over and declare him 'miraculously g-ddamn healthy for a change' (something he'd been surprised by too), Kirk waited for an update on his injured crewmen.

Moving behind the desk McCoy sat down and leaned over, reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle and two glasses. Jim instantly recognized the non-replicated Kentucky bourbon and frowned; Bones only brought out the good stuff after a really tough case (or a particularly difficult call from Jocelyn). Something was seriously wrong.

Bones poured them each a glass and slid one across the desk then took a generous sip. "I don't know what to tell you. Aside from a few bruises and burns the two of them are perfectly healthy. I've run every test I can think of and yet they still won't wake up."

Jim sipped his bourbon slowly. "What does that even _mean_?"

He watched his friend resist the urge to roll his eyes. "It means they're in a coma. Well, Marks is at any rate; Spock looks to be halfway between a coma and a healing trance, I can't really tell."

Kirk nodded. "And you can't bring them out of it because…"

Bones pounded his glass against the desk. "Dammit, don't you think I would've if I could? By all accounts these men shouldn't even be lyin' in my sickbay right now! I've no idea what was done to 'em, no idea how to treat it and if I push the wrong combination of drugs on 'em now there's a good chance they could die!" Picking up his glass again he took another long gulp before muttering darkly, "When Uhura gets down here she's gonna have my hide."

"You mean she's gonna have _my _hide. I'm the one that ordered him along."

"And left her behind."

"Thanks for reminding me." Jim rolled his eyes and steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation between Captain and Communications Officer with another sip of bourbon.

A knock at the door made them both turn in time to see M'Benga stick his head in.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said, "But you said you wanted to see me?"

Bones motioned for him to come in and take the only other free seat. Offering the man a glass Geoff politely shook his head. "I wanted to ask you what was wrong with your mystery patient."

A look of confusion flashed across Geoffrey's face. "Mystery patient? You mean Nurse Mackenzie didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"My patient, it's Lieutenant Uhura. She collapsed shortly before you were beamed up from the surface."

Bones nearly spit out his drink. Drawing a hand down his haggard face McCoy whispered "Jesus" before casting his eyes questioningly at Geoff.

"She's fine, just fainted," he said. "It wasn't copper poisoning."

_Copper poisoning? But that only happens when…_ "She's pregnant?"

Why hadn't anyone told him?

"Doctor/Patient confidentiality, Jim; besides, she only came in for confirmation a few days ago. I don't even think the elf knows yet."

"Geez."

"Tell me about it." Turning back to M'Benga, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"She's still here. I wanted to keep her overnight for observation just to be safe. Mackenzie gave her a light sedative to help her rest."

"Good, good." The CMO poured himself a little more to drink then tucked the bottle back in it's drawer. "Although…" Jim waited on the edge of his seat but Bones waved the thought off. "Never mind. We'll just wait and see." He rose to usher them out. "Well I guess there's nothin' left for us to do now except wait for one of 'em to wake up; and Jim you should really get some rest too."

He finished his drink and headed for the door before stopping and looking at the doctors. "You'll page me when there's news, right?"

"Of course." Bones must've seen something in his face because he added, "And don't go hangin' around here thinkin' I won't and worryin' yourself to death or I'll be sure and find a couple of hypos with your name on 'em."

Behind him M'Benga was laughing so hard he was probably doubled over and he heard McCoy grumble, "You look like a damn fool runnin' outta here like that…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.31, 0735 hours. **The monitor's over Uhura's bed notified him of her imminent awakening and McCoy made sure to be by her side when she finally fluttered her eyes.

Plastering a smile and a calm he didn't feel he easily reached for her wrist to take her pulse. " Mornin' darlin'. How're you feelin'?"

"Fine," she said feebly. "A little groggy."

"That's just the last of the sedative. You'll be more alert in a few minutes, once you've got some breakfast in you."

"Ok." She started to lean back when she got a faraway look in her eye. Squinting, Nyota asked, "Where's Spock?"

Easing her back towards the pillow he said, "He's just a couple beds over, Hun. Now I want you to lay back and relax…"

"Something's wrong. What aren't you telling me?"

_Damn_ _she's a sharp one_. He'd been hoping to put off the inevitable until at least after breakfast. "What makes you think something's wrong?"

Nyota pointed to her temple and waited with an irritated expression. Oh, right, he forgot about the bond. Apparently he wasn't as clever as he thought. "It's quiet…_too _quiet. Now what's going on?"

He pulled up a chair and sat down, trying to think of the best way to put the news to her without scaring her. "We, uh, had a little scuffle on Anguillida."

"A scuffle?" she asked skeptically.

What could he say? They tended to have that effect on people sometimes. "Seems they didn't take too kindly to mankind after all."

"So then just _what_ happened to my husband?"

"Honestly?" She nodded. "I don't know. They separated us from Spock and Lt. Marks before we could affect a rescue. By the time we found 'em they were both in a coma."

Her eyebrow lift reminded him eerily of her husband. What, did they spend hours just staring at each other perfecting that look? "Vulcans don't just _fall_ into comas..."

"Nevertheless that's exactly what it is. I've run scans on them both, multiple times; there's nothing wrong with 'em but they're still not wakin' up."

Nyota processed the information for a moment and Len was about to make his escape when she asked, "So what do you plan on doing about it?"

If there was anything he hated worse than being told what to do it was being told—even if it was just inferred—that he was incompetent. He was about to bark as much at her when she leaned back and closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath to try and keep her fierce composure. She was talking from a place of worry and hurt, he realized, and in her condition it wouldn't due to upset her further. The last thing he wanted was for Spock to wake up and go all suus mahna on his ass just because he'd gone and upset his wife.

Len settled for patting her hand. "Just rest. When I have somethin' new to report you'll be the first to know."

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.31, 0910 hours. **"Cap'n?"

Jim looked up from the interrupted agenda and over at his Chief Engineer. "Yeah, Scotty?"

"Beggin' yer pardon, Sir, but might ye be able to tell us how the Lieutenants and the Commander are farin'?"

He glanced around at the rest of the concerned faces at the table. Spock, Uhura and McCoy's absences _were _conspicuous from their daily party. "Last I heard the Doctor said Uhura was resting comfortably while Marks and Spock are still comatose, condition stable but unknown." Another look showed that information to be insufficient but it was all he had—it was all Bones had to give him. "If and when there's more news to be had I'll pass it along but for now that's all I've got." People relaxed somewhat but were still visibly anxious. "Was there something else?"

From the other side of the table Sulu raised his hand. "Sir, any word on whether they'll be up for visitors?"

He tamped down his amusement immediately at the thought of how Bones would react to a whole troop full of visitors invading his sickbay. Considering the consequences and, never one to miss an open invitation to annoy his cantankerous friend, replied, "I'm sure that'll be fine, Sulu. Welcome, even."

A wide smile broke out on Chekov's face and he began yammering on, making grandiose plans with Scotty to boost both patients' spirits.

Oh yeah…seeing Bones' face after this was _totally_ going to be worth whatever he dished back.

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.32, 1230 hours. **It never ceased to amaze him how much the kid could put away; being able to move let alone walk after a meal like that should've been illegal. Nonetheless Pavel did just that, wiping the remains of his lunch off his face with his sleeve as the two of them headed toward sickbay. Looking over at him for the first time Chekov noticed he was carrying a bouquet of flowers. "Who are dose for?"

Sulu rolled his eyes at his friend's obliviousness. "They're for Uhura; thought they might cheer her up. Wendy stopped by the lab earlier and told me she hasn't left sickbay since this whole thing happened."

"Vendy, hmm? Don't you mean 'Nurse Mackenzie'?" Chekov waggled his brows suggestively.

Nothing had happened—yet. Not that he didn't want it too, it just hadn't been the right time and then her favorite grandmother on Earth had passed away and she'd just been…well it just wasn't _right _and simply thinking about it made him punch Pavel in the arm.

"Vhat vas that for?"

"You know. And don't go pullin' that innocent crap on me either. It doesn't work, I'm immune."

The kid continued to smirk. "Uh huh."

Before he could reply the sickbay doors opened; or at least, he _thought _it was the entrance to sickbay. It seemed like the whole Communications department had descended upon the medical bay, convening at Marks' bedside to try and rouse him back to consciousness with their noise. The two men soon spotted Uhura who looked to have joined her team somewhat reluctantly. She was currently twisting her tongue around a half a dozen languages, having a hand in almost every conversation, but it was clear her full attention was still with Spock on the other side of the room.

They started to approach when McCoy stormed out of his lab, face beet red, and took up position in the middle of the floor. "LISTEN UP! This is a sickbay, not a damn xenolinguistics convention! Either y'all quiet down so the rest of us can get some work done or GET OUT!" The gaggle around Marks' bed paused briefly than took up their conversations again, much to the Doctor's chagrin. With another frustrated growl he gave up and stomped into his office, slamming the door shut behind him. Only after he and his hypos were safely behind closed doors did the duo make their way to Uhura's side.

Sulu smiled as he presented his bouquet. "Hope you're feeling better, Ny."

She took the bunch in her hands and inhaled deeply. "Mmm. Oh Hikaru, these are lovely, thank you." Pavel leaned in and gave her a warm hug. "Thank you both for coming. I know he appreciates it too." A small smile crossed her face as she look to Spock. Making her excuses she led them over to the Commander's bed, watching her visibly relax as she settled the flowers in a vase on his nightstand.

It was the first time they'd seen their First Officer since he'd been brought in and it was a startling sight. Spock lay flat on his back on the bed, the navy blue pajama shirt standing out sharply against the sterile white sheets pulled up tight under his armpits. His breathing was slow but steady and there were no visible bruises—at least, not so far as they could tell. Each time he inhaled the sheets around him pulled taut, giving the impression that he might sit up at any moment and return to his station as if nothing had ever been amiss.

It was what they all wished would happen, at any rate.

But the one sign that really hammered home how serious the situation was was in the normally expressive Commander's hands.

His dexterous fingers spoke volumes where his facial expression and tone could not. They showed excitement and pride as they flew over the science console; sometimes worry, determination and even on occasion a touch of fear whenever an unexpected threat appeared. They displayed his great intelligence and also his humility as he assisted crewmembers with their work no matter their department or rank.

And love…his hands also spoke of his love.

The caresses in public were few and far between but those that worked with him daily—those that counted him as a friend—saw them and knew they were there. There was the brush of his wife's shoulder as he walked past her to the turbolift; the hand on the small of her back guiding her through a crowded reception. Once, Sulu spied them in the hall after the holiday party heading back to their quarters. The couple thought they were alone and engaged in what he could only think to call a 'fingertip kiss'.

He felt like he'd intruded on a very private moment after that and was uncomfortable around the Commander for a week afterward.

Now Spock's hands lay still above the sheets, fingers splayed, idle. That didn't bode well for anyone; not the ship, not it's crew, not the Captain and _especially_ not Uhura.

"He looks good, don't you think?" Chekov asked of no one in particular. "He has good color."

"Perhaps," Uhura demurred.

Sulu moved around to the side of the bed. "Hey Spock." He looked down at his friend's sleeping face, unsure of what to say. "You have to hurry up and wake up, man. It's too quiet on the bridge with you and Uhura gone and we need someone up there to keep the Captain out of trouble. After McCoy you're the only other one on this ship crazy enough to want the job!" Pavel burst out laughing and Nyota hid her grin behind her hand.

"You know," the young Russian said once he started breathing again. "If he vere awake Meester Spock would point out that eet ees illogical to talk to him vhen he is like thees."

"Oh?" he replied with an exaggerated eye roll. Then, grinning at Nyota he deadpanned, "Fascinating."

All three burst out laughing before they could help themselves. In the middle of their fit the door to McCoy's office opened again.

"Ok, that's it, I can hear y'all clucking like a bunch of hens even with the soundproofing on! Everybody out! OUT! That includes you too, Golson! Don't think I don't see you trying to hide back there…!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.32, 1608 hours. **Len was grateful for the last three hours of quiet but they still didn't allow him to get any useful work done; his patients were still comatose and he had no safe way of bringing them around. He was about to head to the Mess for a coffee break when the alarms above Marks' bed sounded and he rushed forward with Chapel and M'Benga hot on his heels. They were about to pull back the curtain back when he stole a quick glance in Spock's direction and saw Nyota staring up at him with hope in her eyes.

He hoped he had good news for her too.

Turning back to Marks, Len watched the Junior Lieutenant blink against the bright lights. Rufus looked startled and struggled up into a sitting position, groaning at the pain in his head. Wordlessly Chapel handed him a hypospray and as it plunged into his neck Rufus smiled in relief. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. Now, mind telling me what happened down there? Whatever you're able to remember might help me help Commander Spock."

"Commander Spock, Sir?"

McCoy's eyebrow twitched upward. "Yes, Commander Spock. We went down to that damn planet two days ago and the Anguillidans took you and Spock and did God-only-knows-what because you've both been in a coma ever since."

"A coma? Wow. Um…I uh…" He looked fearfully over at M'Benga and Chapel before carrying on, "Begging your pardon, Sir, but are you sure I was there? I've never heard of Anguillidans before and I'm hardly ever taken on away missions."

Either the man was obtuse or something was seriously wrong. "You don't remember the eel people?" Marks shook his head. "How can you _not_ remember the eel people?"

The young man cringed. "I'm sorry, Sir, I just don't."

Chapel placed a hand gently on the patient's arm. She definitely possessed the bedside manner people were constantly reminding him he lacked. "Lieutenant, what's the last thing you _do_ remember?"

Rufus concentrated hard. "Uhh…oh, yeah, I was in the lab with Ensign Nyland fixing a broken console. One of the circuits got fried when we put in a new upgrade." Still puzzled he looked back to McCoy, "Are you _sure_ I went planetside? I think I'd remember something like that."

"Lieutenant, I was right…"

"Can you answer just one more question for me please?" Chapel interjected. "What's the current stardate?"

"It's 2261.23."

McCoy's eyes widened. "Oh."

_Oh shit_. Somehow those creatures mucked about with his brain and in all his tests it never even showed. Where in the _hell_ did they get technology like that? And how could they dothat to another living creature? A whole week of the man's life was now missing for G-d's sake!

_Damn ugly slimy buggers…_

* * *

><p>*adun'a = wife<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Hi again! I'll be brief. There was a problem with the original Chapter 1 upload, and to fix it I had to make the site think I uploaded Chapter 2 when I didn't. But all is fixed now and hopefully we won't encounter that issue again (fingers crossed)! And as always thank you for reading and (if you feel so inclined) reviewing.

Enjoy!

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

_**USS Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.36, 1055 hours. **Nyota watched patiently as Wendy readjusted the sheets around Spock and checked his vitals. When she finished the nurse flashed her a small smile before moving on so the couple could have their privacy. There wasn't anything her friend could say that she didn't already know: her husband's condition hadn't changed in the last four days.

_"I don't know what to tell you," Len began. She and Kirk were sitting in his office a day and a half after Marks woke up. Up to that point she was still hopeful Spock would make a full recovery. "It's the same as when Rufus was in the coma, there's nothin' physically wrong. I've had his friends take him around to the comm. lab, the rec. room, his room, anyplace that might jog his memory but so far nothing. The last 9 days of his life are just gone."_

_"What does that mean for Spock?" Jim asked before she had a chance. If she thought she missed her husband she realized he missed his friend too._

_"It could mean anything. I can't predict whether he'll ever wake up or what he will or won't remember anymore than I could predict it with Marks." Len sighed and turned to her, trying to remain optimistic in spite of himself. It was a hard pill for her to swallow but life with a Vulcan had prompted her to be a realist. "But the Commander's unique physiology makes anything fair game. Hell, for all we know he may come out of this completely intact."_

_"And he might not."_

_McCoy frowned at her perceived pessimism. "You're right, he might not." _

The prognosis was disconcerting to say the least, and the longer he lay there the worse she suspected the damage was, even with his superior brain. With that in mind Nyota braced herself for whatever outcome might come. _For better or for worse…_

A flutter in her gut sent a hand to her stomach. But what about their baby? Spock didn't even know she was going to make him a father when he went down to the planet's surface. Would he wake up and forget that they'd even agreed to try again for a child?

"You should get some rest, Ny," an uncharacteristically soft, Southern drawl sounded from behind her. _Some guardian I am_, she thought with a grimace; she hadn't even heard Len pull the privacy curtain away.

"I'm fine."

"Is that so?" He pulled up a chair and turned it around, straddling it and propping his elbows on the back. "When's the last time you ate…"

"Christine brought me some yogurt a little while ago…"

"…in the Mess?" he finished, fixing her a look. "Or showered in your own quarters? Or slept in your own bed?" She didn't respond; then again she didn't have to. He'd spent almost as much time in sickbay these last couple days as she had so he knew what she was up to. "How's about the last time you sat in something more comfortable than this dang chair?"

Nyota turned a sharp gaze on him knowing even then the dark circles under her eyes would betray her and he scowled right back. "I want you to get out of here for a little bit. Go for a walk, go to the bridge, go home—I don't care, just get out of here and take a breather and recharge. There's nothing you can do for him right now but he'll sure as hell need you when he wakes up." Again she stayed silent and his frown deepened. "Do I have to make it an order? Go."

Angrily she picked up her shawl and stormed toward the door with no particular direction in mind. How could Len know that she had no place else to go? Her home was with Spock and he was lying there alone in sickbay on a cold hospital bed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.36, 1143 hours. **Out of the corner of his eye Monty watched her progress as she trailed through engineering. With arms drawn tight around the shawl across her shoulders and her face set seemingly in stone she was the spittin' image of the ghosties from his grandmother's stories.

That thought alone was enough to make him shudder.

Nyota walked along, her wrap billowing out behind her, her mind anywhere but there as she ignored those in her way. Out of uniform she just looked so out of place on the _Enterprise_, especially wandering around in the bowels of the ship. The younger engineers tended to shy away from her like spooked cattle while the older ones knew well enough to simply keep their heads down. Monty had his very own "Jane of George Street"—or so his Gran would say if she saw her—and when Nyota looked his way with her sad, sad eyes a fresh trill ran down his spine.

After a long meandering walk along the gangplanks over his head did she finally reach the exit and leave. He pitied the lass but there was nothing he or anyone else could do for her 'til the Commander woke up; with a sad sigh he returned to his work hopin' that that'd be soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.36, 1304 hours. **All they could do was patrol their current sector of space yet the strain on the bridge was palpable enough that even the aloof Ensign Riley noticed. Their XO was still down for the count, their Comm. Officer refused to leave his side, and their replacements—while doing their jobs ably enough—simply weren't Spock and Nyota and therefore couldn't fill the void.

Jim knew he depended on his command crew but he never knew just _how_ much until a third of it was gone. Spock was the one that kept them all grounded while Uhura was the one that made them all a family—and now that family was broken. Looking out the viewport, eyes glazing over as the stars flew past, he thought what today might've been like if they were both on shift. Ordinarily on a boring run like this he'd try and boost morale with a game—something silly, like 'Never Have I Ever' or 'I Spy'. Chekov would always rush in and be the first to answer while behind him he'd practically hear Uhura's eye roll at their childish antics. Spock would attempt to reign them both back in with an impromptu briefing of their upcoming mission, though sometimes he'd surprise Jim with a dry joke or two. Around that time Sulu would swoop in and save the day and support the game and with that uncanny sixth sense of his Bones would burst out of the turbolift, call them all infants and refuse to take part.

Jim sighed. He missed those days.

Just when he thought he'd kick his chair clean off its post (if only to have someone do _some _work on the bridge) the comm. went off.

"Sickbay to bridge."

He pushed the button. "Go ahead, Bones."

"Jim, you're gonna want to get down here."

Well that wasn't good. If Spock were waking up he'd have just told him, right? He felt all eyes on deck turn toward him as if asking that very same question, and despite being a natural optimist he couldn't help but feel his gut clench. Why didn't Bones just come out and tell him what was going on and why he was needed?

And then it occurred to him; he had another 400-odd crewmembers aboard this ship. Perhaps Bones' summons had nothing to do with Spock and everything to do with one of them.

He doubted it.

Jim pushed the button again. "I'm on my way." Looking up he caught his pilot's eye. "Mr. Sulu, you have the Con."

"Aye, Captain."

It was a long walk to sickbay and when he finally arrived his friend was waiting for him at the door. The other nurses and doctors—who Jim saw out of the corner of his eye and who had inexplicably congregated in the far corner of the room—scattered at his presence and resumed their duties. McCoy led him straight to his office and away from prying eyes.

"So? What's the word?"

"There's some indication that Spock's about to wake up."

He wanted to let out a whoop of relief. Of all the times for Bones to get all cryptic and moody…wait a minute, this was good news, right?

"I want you around for Nyota in case things don't go well."

He cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'don't go well'?"

Bones grimaced. "Exactly what I said. Marks was out cold for two days and came back losing nine. Spock's been out for nearly a week—who knows what he might've forgotten?" At that Jim quirked an eyebrow. "Hey, I'm hopin' for the best and preppin' for the worst here. With any luck he'll just wake up, see the three of us standin' around like idiots and tell us we're all being illogical."

Jim hoped that were the case…but he knew from experience things were rarely ever that easy.

M'Benga poked his head around the corner. "Doctor…"

"We're coming."

* * *

><p>Slowly—painfully slowly—Spock felt himself rise through the layers of the deepest healing trance he had ever been in in his life. The sensation reminded him of his time on Acros VII when he was 13.28 years old; the gravity their made even his well-toned limbs feel encased in concrete the moment they set foot on the surface and for a full 22 hour day afterward.<p>

The struggle to regain consciousness was one thing, but what was more troubling was the fact that he could not recall what sent him into a healing trance in the first place. He suspected that he had been gravely injured and yet the how, when, where or why remained to be seen. According to his internal diagnostics, however, he was in peak form.

_Wake up, wake up, wake up!_

The sudden assault of thoughts not his own and the stinging pain on his cheek helped pull him closer to the surface.

_**Wake up, wake up, wake up!**_

The air around his face blew back in prelude to a third blow and Spock reached up to catch the person's wrist. "You may desist. I am awake."

Eyes now open he had a bright penlight in his face. Judging by the man's tone Spock determined that his physician was human and had been upset by his illness. "How d'you feel?" He pulled himself upright without answer and examined the room. His TA stood behind the Doctor, along with a second physician and an unknown young man with piercing blue eyes. Their presence at his bedside was most…curious.

"If you are inquiring after the state of my physical well being than I can report that I am in optimum health. However, I have no recollection of what brought me to the Medical Center. I would also like to know why a Vulcan healer was not called in to consult on my case."

The doctor frowned and Spock again had to wonder at the curious assemblage of people in his room; perhaps they had a hand in whatever misfortune befell him. "All in good time, Mr. Spock, but first can you tell me the current stardate?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "I fail to see the relevance of your query, but in answer to your question the current stardate is 2257.135."

Cadet Uhura gasped and fled the room with the man in the gold shirt following right behind. The doctor set his penlight down and frowned. "You're certain?"

Why did humans always feel the need to ask questions twice when they were already given a satisfactory answer once? "Yes, I am certain that that is the correct stardate."

The doctor uttered a string of expletives under his breath. His language was very colorful. Certainly he had not been taught to speak that way while at the Academy?

"Geoff, do you mind getting him started? I need to see to…" his head jerked toward the door.

"Of course."

Remarkably Spock felt no apprehension at the hand-off; for the most part he trusted the medical professionals at Starfleet. While they were not Vulcan healers they were very capable in their own right and by and large treated him with more respect than his own people ever did. What did have him mildly concerned was the abrupt departure of both his attending physician and his teaching assistant so soon after he had woken up. Clearly something was amiss that he was not yet privy to.

The younger man pulled the curtain back more fully. "Commander, if you'll follow me this way…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.36, 1325 hours. **Jim followed Nyota as Bones ushered them back inside to his office while Spock underwent further tests. None of them wanted to stir up the scuttlebutt until they had a handle on the situation.

Four years…_four years_! He just couldn't believe it.

And despite it all after her initial outburst Uhura was remarkably calm. He wondered if it wasn't a trick she picked up from her husband.

For the first time in a long time Jim didn't know what to do. There were no protocols covering this type of thing in any of the Starfleet manuals—not that he'd ever been a stickler for 'Fleet rules but he appreciated the general guidelines all the same. Now, though, he was flying blind…and the worst part was that the person he'd ordinarily turn to for advice probably didn't even remember his name.

Bones stood behind his desk, across folded across his chest, studying them both closely with his lips pursed in concentration. Apparently he was so upset he couldn't even speak.

Jim never thought he'd see the day…

"We always knew this might happen," Nyota began quietly.

"NOT _FOUR YEARS_! I know I've been preachin' it but dammit I thought he'd come back with only a couple missing months at the most! It wouldn't have been ideal but nothin' about any of this is! I didn't expect the man to lose some of the most important years of his life!" Bones started to pace and banged a fist down hard on his desk. "Jesus!"

_Amen_,Jim thought grimly.

* * *

><p>Her first impression upon catching Spock's eye was that he no more than noticed her than he noticed the man at the Academy deli who used to make him his veggie wraps at lunch—and seeing how far she'd been reduced in his eyes made her cry out in spite of herself.<p>

But now that the full scope of the situation was revealed Nyota also felt the tension drain from her body and be replaced by numbness. However faint there'd still been a flash of recognition in his eyes and after recalling the date she knew he remembered her as his teaching assistant and nothing more…and for that she was grateful. Another year or two gone and he wouldn't have known her at all and that would've stung even more.

Still, there was so much they'd have to tell him that the pity for her own predicament was short-lived. He didn't know a thing about the Narada, or Vulcan, or his own mother's tragic death. Hell, he didn't even know he was currently on board a starship. The news, if broken to him the wrong way, would completely devastate him.

It was a myth that Spock felt nothing, and one that'd been quickly dispelled by the crew as they grew to know and respect him. His control was precise because it had to be; one slip in the façade, as they'd all already seen, could be deadly. He felt and felt things deeply, and Nyota was one of the few people he'd ever allowed to see the true depth of his passions. In the aftermath of the Narada his grief for his mother nearly destroyed him and she could only imagine it'd be twice as difficult now because he wasn't even aware she was gone.

She'd been half-listening to Len's rant when she felt light-headed and sat in a nearby chair. Her movement caught his eye and he looked her over coolly, his fiery Georgia temper evident. "How come you're so calm and collected? Don't you even care!" The Captain winced; he knew better than most how hot her temper could flare.

"Don't you think for one second that just because I'm not tearing this room apart that I'm not angry! I'm furious, but getting upset won't bring my husband back!"

The captain, who was never one to avoid a fight, was conspicuously quiet. A fragile peace descended on the room.

"You guys," Kirk finally said, "How are we going to tell him about…everything?"

She spoke up before Len had a chance to. "You can't, at least not now. He'll be too overwhelmed."

McCoy quirked an eyebrow. "So what, you want us to break down four years of his life and spoon feed it to him whenever it's convenient? Sorry, but that ain't a better option, Darlin'."

Her annoyance with him was growing to epic proportions. "I didn't say that."

"It's not only him you're worried about when we tell him," Jim observed after staring hard into her eyes. "You're worried about you too."

She didn't demur. "I'd be lying if I said that weren't true but that's not the whole story. We've got to take this slowly and carefully and pick what we're going to say for _his _sake, not mine."

He looked at her quizzically. "Are you afraid of how he might react when he finds out about the bonding? Is that what you're worried about?"

Nyota let out a small gasp. Even after all these years it still surprised her how observant Kirk could be when he wanted to. All his swagger and bravado tended to blind people from the true intelligence that lay beneath.

"He'd be an idiot not to want that!" Len blurted out in a fury.

She wished she knew for sure that that were true. Looking down at her hands in her lap Nyota attempted to gather her thoughts. Now that Spock was awake it was a strange feeling being alone inside her own head. She wished she had his input now, if only to reassure her that she was doing the right thing. "It's not just the bond that I'm worried about," she admitted softly. "Spock's missing almost _four _years; he was still my professor back then and we were only just becoming friends. He won't remember me like that.

"But what's more is that that's a lot of time for anyone to lose. He's always secretly prided himself on having a flawless memory and now his slate's been wiped clean. Can you imagine how upsetting that's going to be for him?" Neither man answered her rhetorical question. "How would you feel if it happened to you?"

The look on Jim's face spoke of understanding but she could tell he still wanted her to come clean. How could she make this any clearer? She was trying to get them to do what was best for Spock, and right now that was protecting hisheart as well ashishead.

"You guys, he thinks he's still at the Academy! He's probably lying on the table in the next room going over his proctoring schedule in his head! How do you propose we tell him that that part of his life is over and has been for awhile? How do you tell him that he's XO on the _Enterprise_, that you're his Captain and you're his CMO, and all because of an incident that killed his mother, half the fleet and obliterated his home world? How do you think he'll react to all that?"

Both men looked grim, Kirk's more so with the knowledge of how lethal a reaction his friend might have. None of them liked to imagine the dark, dark place they knew he'd go to when he re-learned of his mother's death. Nyota in particular recalled the daily struggle he faced keeping his guilt at bay over losing her and it was only within the last year and a half, once they were bonded and started actively trying for a family of their own, that the pain had eased into a more bearable ache. She didn't want to burden him further with news of a bond that no longer existed and a relationship that, at least in his head, was little more than a professional friendship. Lying to him right now was a kindness.

_Just keep telling yourself that,_ a niggling voice in the back of her mind chided. _You were lucky to get him to love you once; it won't happen again._

"Jim, it's the _emotional_ fallout that I'm most worried about. The loss of his mother, the loss of Vulcan…it's too much to ask anyone to cope with but especially him. He has great control but he'll need every bit of it to deal with this. I'm practically a stranger to him and telling him about the bond now when it no longer it exists might just push him over the edge."

"I'll admit," Jim conceded after a long, telling pause. "It might be kinder in the short run not to overwhelm him with too many details—_yet_. But what about you? Where does that leave you and the…?"

She clasped a hand over her still flat stomach without even thinking. No one outside of sickbay even knew she was expecting and all the medical personnel were completely discreet. "We'll be fine until you three figure out what's wrong and come up with a cure."

Nyota could tell by the glance they shared that both men doubted her faith…but it wasn't as if it were unfounded. After everything else that had happened to them all since setting foot on the _Enterprise_ Spock's amnesia was just par for the course. Now that he was awake Spock, Jim and Len could work together until they found a cure or were able to reverse whatever had been done; then she'd tell him that their family of two was expanding to three and they could prepare to welcome this new life.

She and Jim looked to McCoy, the last hold out of the Big Lie, and the Doctor let loose a long suffering sigh.

"Alright." Her eyes widened while Jim's jaw dropped in disbelief. "What d'you want me to say? I'm not happy about this but despite the absent head voo-doo you're still his wife—and let's face it, you know the hobgoblin better than any of us do. If you thinks it's best to," he searched for a more pleasant euphemism, "_omit_ certain truths for the time being then I'll go along with it; but mark my words, this is all gonna come back and bite us in the ass before it's all over."

Without a word Jim took a seat behind Len's computer and started pulling up screen after screen. Sidling up behind him Nyota realized it was a good thing her Captain had her back: already she'd forgotten about the virtual trail that would disclose everything to Spock about his former life. As file after file was either redacted or squirreled away she reminded him, "Spock is a computer programmer, you know; he won't have forgotten that. What's stopping him from finding this wherever you've buried it?"

Kirk waggled his brow. "Don't let the good looks fool you; I beat the Kobayashi Maru, remember? I know my way around code. Trust me, he won't find this." In spite of herself she grinned.

Len stood by the door with a hand on his chin, oblivious to the banter. "We'll have to release him to his quarters when we're done with the tests." His eyes darted over to hers to gauge whether or not she really wanted to go through with her plan, but she'd anticipated as much and didn't waver. "I know it hasn't helped Marks but I'm still hopeful something'll come back after being in a familiar space."

"I'll see if Janice'll let me stay with her for a bit, maybe help me move out my things."

"Requisition whoever you need for moving but you're not staying with my yeoman," Jim announced, eyes never moving from the screen. "You can stay in one of the ambassadorial suites until this all gets sorted out."

Overcome by their generosity she leaned over and kissed the crown of his head. Who knew that the hick she met all those years ago would grow up to be such a thoughtful and generous friend?

* * *

><p><em><strong>USS Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.37, 0915 hours. **His quarters. It felt strange to be standing there. Surreal even.

Almost…alien.

Five weeks ago Captain Pike had offered him the position as XO on a ship that was still under construction in a shipyard in Iowa. Now he was standing just inside the doorway to a room that by all accounts should not exist let alone be flying through space.

_"M'Benga." His primary physician walked out of his office escorting Cadet Uhura to the exit. "If you're all through Jim and I'd like to speak with the Commander a moment."_

_"Of course."_

_His TA left without a backward glance and a sense of foreboding crept over him. Wordlessly, he followed Dr. M'Benga into the next room. Behind the desk sat the man in command gold—Jim, he assumed—who was hastily finishing up a project on screen._

_"Thanks, Geoff." The doctor nodded at his dismissal and left. "Computer, lock doors and enable sound-proofing, authorization code McCoy Beta 841."_

_"Acknowledged."_

_His apprehension grew yet his expression never wavered. The other man stood and took the seat to Spock's left while the doctor—Doctor McCoy he now knew—moved behind his desk. He discovered at a very early age that oftentimes humans talked simply to hear the sound of their own voice and yet these two men, who clearly had something to say, remained eerily quiet. Dr. McCoy cleared his throat._

_"Mr. Spock, first and foremost I want you to know you're safe here. If you feel the urge to say or do," he glanced at his companion wearily, "…__something__, you can do it here. We won't think any less of you." If he were not so curious to hear what they had to say Spock would be insulted—they were expecting an untoward show of emotion. He was Vulcan. _

_It suddenly dawned on him what might have sent him to the medical center with no memory of the event. There were stories on Vulcan of men caught unaware by Pon Farr and plunged so far into the madness before they realized it that when their mental balance was restored (assuming they did not die in the process) they had no recollection of the biological imperative ever taking place. He was of the proper age even though he hoped his human heritage would spare him; if he had undergone Pon Farr than he might have done any number of untoward things in his lapse. _

_Had he unintentionally injured a colleague? A cadet? _

_Had he hurt Cadet Uhura? Was that why she had been waiting at his bedside, waiting for him to wake up so justice could be served?_

_"I'm afraid we have some rather upsetting news. There was an incident six days ago that left you and a colleague in something of a coma. We discovered shortly after each of you awoke that it's left you both with amnesia." The Doctor studied him closely as he imparted the news with what seemed to be a permanently pained expression on his face._

_Spock considered the situation carefully. Amnesia was an almost unheard of condition on Vulcan and, as far as he was aware, he had not been involved in any recent incidents that might result in that kind of traumatic brain injury. Spock thought over the diagnosis some more before recalling what Dr. Puri had told him during the first command staff meeting. "Keep an eye on him," he said, motioning to Captain Pike at the head of the table who was laughing with one of his engineers, "The man's a big practical joker." _

_The Doctor went on to share a number of anecdotes of Pike's larger pranks as the meeting wore on. By and large the concept of 'joking' went over his head until Dr. Puri explained that the captain's intentions were to amuse himself as much as to take the measure of a man. Only when you were subjected to one of the Captain's tricks did you know you were truly a part of the crew. _

_Judging by his current surroundings this was one of Captain Pike's more elaborate schemes. Later he would have to discover how it was all brought about._

_Standing up Spock tugged out the wrinkles in his shirt looking as dignified as possible. "Thank you, gentlemen. Your efforts are commendable, however, I believe that will be all for today." His exit was cut off by Jim._

_"Commander," Dr. McCoy called out, "I'm afraid we don't follow."_

_Spock turned on his heel and clasped his hands behind his back. The actors the captain had recruited were certainly playing their parts well. "I understand that it is a favorite pastime of Captain Pike to engage his subordinates in practical jokes in order to test their character and bond them with the crew. Recognizing this as one such attempt I believe I have 'passed muster', as the human expression goes, and would like to return to my duties. I have final examinations to prepare for my students." _

_The other man shot the doctor a worried glance. No matter; he would acknowledge their adequacy when he next spoke with the Captain._

_McCoy was incredulous. "You think this is all some kind of joke?"_

_"Affirmative." _

_The Doctor scoffed and rolled his eyes before sharing a pointed look with his partner-in-crime._

_"Bones!"_

_"Well Jesus, Jim, what do you want me to say? He thinks we're pulling his leg! I wasn't expectin' this!"_

_"I can assure you that I am well aware that you are not pulling my leg as both my feet are firmly planted on the ground." Another round of eye-rolling was all he got from the physician._

_"Mr. Spock," Jim said, entreating him to take his seat. Seeing that there would be no escape until he took part in this charade Spock sat back down. "I'm afraid this isn't a prank. It's the truth. Six days ago we beamed down to the surface of a planet called Anguillida. While we were there you and Lt. Marks were taken and returned to us comatose. You've both since woken up missing portions of your memory." Spock quirked an eyebrow in disbelief but said nothing. "You still don't believe us, do you?"_

_"That would be correct."_

_"And that's because you don't know me from Adam, isn't it?" He tilted his head at the unfamiliar idiom until the man rephrased. "I mean you have no idea who I am and therefore have no reason to believe me. Is that right?"_

_"That would also be correct."_

_The man sighed and combed his fingers through his hair. "My name is James T. Kirk and I'm Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise. Captain Pike is now an Admiral working out of Headquarters in San Francisco. This is our Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Leonard McCoy. You are the First Officer as well as the Chief Science Officer, and we're currently two and a half years through our first five year mission."_

_For the first time in a long time Spock found himself speechless. The man spoke with such conviction that it was clear he expected to be taken seriously and yet Spock found he still had his doubts; after all, the implications if such news were true were too awful to consider._

_"Earlier I was asked to give the current star date. It is still 2257.135," he said, consulting his internal clock._

_The Captain shook his head. "No, Mr. Spock. It's 2261.37."_

_Now he understood why they had taken the precautions that he had. Spock felt the sudden and overwhelming urge to scream. _

He had lost three years and 267.45—now 268.22—days of his life. The scope of that loss was almost incomprehensible.

And just when he was starting to get a handle on things they broke the news to him of his mother's death and the destruction of Vulcan.

It was worse than he could have imagined.

As the men spoke he tried to reach out through the bond for his mother only to find a big, gaping, ugly black hole where the link used to be. In all the confusion surrounding his awakening he had somehow overlooked her absence. How had he allowed that to happen? Very easily, apparently. He had simply taken for granted that she was and always would be there. Now, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a holoimage of his mother sitting innocuously on a bookshelf. She was standing in her garden in their home just outside Shi'Khar.

_Mother_.

She was the only person in the world who ever accepted him for who he was, who never forced him to choose sides. Even Sarek had passed judgment on him, as none of his accomplishments ever made him quite Vulcan enough, but whenever his mother looked at him it was only with love in her eyes. Throughout the two turbulent worlds he was forced to navigate she had been his one constant and now…

…now she was gone.

Sitting in McCoy's office yesterday he felt himself start to quiver with rage, an age old primal blood lust triggered seeking retribution. The struggle to contain such raw emotions did not go unnoticed by his human companions; in fact they appeared to have almost anticipated as much.

_"I understand that you'd probably like to have a little time alone right now to process everything, but I'm afraid I'm goin' to need you to stay here overnight for observation. It's standard procedure," the doctor stated, cutting off any protest he might have made. "But I promise you first thing in the morning I'll release you and show you to your quarters."_

True to his word, the Doctor had done just that, using his medical override to let him in until he could reset the pass code. As they strode down the hall side-by-side crewmembers paused to let them pass while congratulating him for getting well.

Most illogical. The state of his health in no way necessitated congratulating.

He took another step forward and continued to survey his quarters. The rooms were exactly as he remembered from the ship's schematics; however, instead of being bare bones of steel they were now filled with his belongings and remnants of a life he no longer remembered.

There were a number of paper bound books lined up on a shelf, both in Standard and Vulkhansu. He recognized several titles from his days at the Academy while there were a few new ones that he must have picked up along the way. His ka'athyra case sat propped up in the corner beside the sofa while on the opposite side of the room sat his meditation mat and firepot. On the far wall hung an artist's representation of the IDIC, a piece his mother had presented to him upon his graduation from the Academy. He hurried toward the bedroom so as to turn his back on yet another reminder of his loss.

The bed sat in the middle of the room and was neatly made, and his uniforms were pressed and hung in the closet along with four pairs of boots polished to a shine and lined up on the floor underneath.

Everything was in order. He alone stood out in the scene.

Spartan as his personal quarters were he still found the room to be wanting, as though objects had been removed without his permission. It did not help that a fine layer of dust had settled over the space during his illness and on the bookshelf, coffee table and bureau Spock found several voids to confirm his suspicions. There were too many empty spaces present for them to be merely coincidence.

This meant that there was more to the story than Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk first told him, and while he had suspected as much before Spock was almost certain of it now. Sparing a glance at his workstation he felt a split second of worry. Surely they would not have restricted his access when they placed him on inactive duty?

The screen sprang to life at his touch as he went to investigate the matter but he did not proceed further. Knowing that he had access to the answers he sought Spock decided that some heavy meditation was in order first. He quickly lit the firepot and settled himself down in the old familiar pose; if he could simply quiet his mind for a few hours then he could reconcile all he knew with all that he had been told…

…and perhaps he would even find a little peace in a senseless tragedy that was three years gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This chapter is short but will hopefully clear up a few things. Also, I am not a neurologist or any kind of physician. I am a writer of fan fiction (emphasis on the _fiction_). Please keep that in mind as you read.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

_**USS Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.37, 2025 hours. **She walked away from sickbay looking positively grim, a report clutched tight to her chest, and headed for her quarters. Rather unwittingly Nyota got off on Deck 9 instead of Deck 10 and now found herself staring longingly at the door to Spock's quarters.

Her quarters. Formerly theirs.

Len told her he hadn't left his room or eaten a thing all day; he'd checked the logs twice just to make sure. She knew Spock could go for long stretches of time without eating but he'd lost 5.5 kilograms in the last week just trying to heal; denying himself now simply wasn't healthy. She also knew he'd locked himself away so he could privately deal with his grief without fear of embarrassing himself in front of his human colleagues. Nyota wished she could go in there and hold him, tell him everything would be alright and _make_ him take better care of himself but she no longer had the right; she'd forfeited it when she conspired with Kirk and McCoy to keep him in the dark.

And if anything Spock would find her visit an unwelcome intrusion on his mourning.

Her thoughts could not have been more somber when the sound of cheery whistling heralded down the hall ahead of the Captain who came carrying a chess board in his hands. He stopped short at the sight of her standing alone by the door.

"Hey."

"Hey." He tried to move past her to press the door chime.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Kirk furrowed his brow. "I'm going to play a round of chess with Spock."

_Oh no. No, no, no_. If she thought a visit from her would be unwelcome than one from him would be outright unwanted—only Spock would never say it to his face because he was the captain.

Nyota launched a protest on his behalf. "I really don't think that's such a good idea…"

"Uhura, he's an amnesiac, not an invalid." She still refused to budge. "Come on, I thought you of all people would think this was a good idea! It'll get those neuron things Bones' has been going on about firing, remember?"

As if she could forget. "_Don't tiptoe around him but for Heaven's sakes don't go purposely upsettin' him either!" Len instructed, giving Jim a pointed look. "We gotta ease him back into his routine. He's still perfectly capable of doin' his job, we just have to get the ol' neurons firin' again, so treat him like you normally would. And remember, this is as strange for him as it is for us so just go with the flow. Follow his lead, not the other way around._"

She shot daggers at him for making her sound as if she didn't want what was best for Spock. "He only just got out of sickbay! And you heard Len too, he said we shouldn't tax him!"

"He also said to treat him normally and every Wednesday night Spock and I play chess. _That's_ _normal_."

Jim straightened in defiance and Nyota realized she had only 2 options: aggravate herself to the point of no return trying to mount a useless defense or just give in. Glaring at him she said, "Fine. But don't keep him up too late, ok? And try and get him to eat something while you play; Len says he hasn't had anything all day." He grinned that obnoxious, charming grin and she resisted the urge to punch him in the arm.

"Yes, Mom."

He ducked away just as she pulled back, all thoughts of insubordination going right out the airlock, and rang the chime that forced her to move along.

* * *

><p>Spock had been reluctant to admit him (and frankly, Jim couldn't blame him) but soon they were settled at the kitchen table with the chess board between them and a plate of veggies and dip at their side. Except for the lack of their normal lively debates it was almost like old times.<p>

Jim bit into his carrot with an overloud loud crunch before starting up another joke. "Ok, so tell me if you've heard this one before. A priest, a rabbi and an imam walk into a bar…"

"To walk into a bar would be illogical."

Jim's jaw dropped; then he doubled over with a belly laugh so deep he thought his gut would cramp. Looks like Bones was right about a thing or two after all: shades of the old Spock were returning. "You DO remember this one!"

"Negative; I was merely making an observation. To walk into a bar when one is capable of avoiding the obstacle in question is illogical."

The laughter died instantly. "Oh." He concentrated hard on his remaining pieces. Recollecting an old play Jim picked up a knight to be sacrificed to his First's bishop. A few rapid moves later and Spock sidestepped the trap he'd set leaving Jim to rethink his strategy yet again. The timer at his elbow ticked on.

Maybe Uhura was right, maybe this was a bad idea. Too much too soon and all that.

"Captain?"

His eyes never left the board. "Yes?"

"You were attempting the Vluhn of Tilek* maneuver a moment ago, were you not?"

"Yes." When his First didn't reply he glanced up and caught the curious lift of his friend's brow. "Does that surprise you?"

"It is not a commonly known strategy outside of Vulcan. Might I inquire as to who instructed you in this technique?"

Well if the answer wasn't as plain as the nose on his face. Spock was either oblivious or just obtuse. "You taught me, Spock," he informed him. The breach in command etiquette almost made the other man flinch. "You taught me right here at this very table a little over two years ago."

Spock looked as if he was casting about for the right words but couldn't find them; meanwhile Jim idly picked up a pawn and twirled it about in his fingers.

"I highly doubt I would endeavor to impart the Vluhn of Tilek technique to just anyone," the Commander finally settled on saying at last.

He grinned and waggled his brow. "Well I'm not just anyone." A quick look at the board showed he could capture Spock's Queen in five moves—if he was lucky.

"Elaborate."

Kirk sighed. Leave it to Spock never to make things easy.

"I'm the youngest Captain Starfleet's ever had," he began slowly, "And we were five months out into our mission. Back then I was feeling pretty good. I hadn't screwed up, hadn't gotten us into any interstellar fights, hadn't lost any crew…"

"You were feeling self-confident," Spock uncharacteristically butted in.

Jim frowned. It wasn't as simple as all that. For the first time in his life the name James Tiberius Kirk actually _meant_ something in it's own right, it wasn't just tacked on as an afterthought to his father's heroics; he had his own worth for a change. And between all the Federation accolades, his rapid promotion, and his heretofore spotless track record Jim had been practically drunk giddy with power.

But he couldn't explain all that to Spock; he wouldn't even know where to begin. "I was cocky," he admitted. "And it cost a man his life."

One minute they were talking chess, the next they were talking about one of his greatest failures since taking command. How would dredging up this painful part of his past really help Spock remember his? A quick look at his First's carefully schooled features didn't give him an answer but Jim couldn't rationalize not telling him the tale.

"We were in orbit around Erabaxx and received permission from the local government to send down a party to study the plant life. You, me, Sulu, and Bones—I mean, Dr. McCoy—went down, along with a security team and members of both the science and botany labs. Chuck Grimes was an ensign on the security force; I didn't know him well, just from seeing him around the Academy and on-board ship from time to time, but I knew who he was.

"Well when we spoke with Erabaxxian officials they neglected to tell us there were rebel forces on the ground trying to topple their government—and apparently pretty violently too. They called themselves the Therosians and hid out in the woods where we were conducting our scans. When they saw us materialize they thought we were off-world assassins hired to kill them.

"Grimes was with his team when they attacked. I was on the other side of the grid but I heard the commotion and we all ran over to find out what was going on. The rebels surprised us but we were able to mount a good defense. Grimes took a hit to the arm, a flesh wound, nothing a dermal regen couldn't fix. I was calling Scotty for an emergency beam up when one of 'em hidden up in a tree shot Grimes right between the eyes. He was standing right next to me." Jim paused and took a sip of his water wishing hard that it was something stronger. "Bones told me he was dead before he hit the ground—not that it helped. Dead is dead."

He took a long, deep breath. This was the hardest part of command, losing members of your crew. Whether they were lost through some unfortunate accident or a hostile encounter dealing with each death never got any easier.

"You could not have predicted the appearance of the Therosians nor of their reaction to our presence, therefore you could not have predicted Ensign Grimes' death. Without all the facts in hand these events were beyond your control."

"So I've been told." He didn't need to remind Spock that he was the one who'd told him. "But if I wasn't so busy priding myself on being such a great captain I might've taken the time to look at the situation on Erabaxx a little more closely. There were hints of rebellion that I ignored and if I hadn't Grimes might still be alive."

There was a long pause as Spock considered the board. Jim had been so caught up in telling his story he almost forgot there was a game. "There is a saying on Vulcan. 'Kaiidth'," he said slowly. "Simply translated, it means 'What is, is'. One cannot change the past. The important lesson is that you have learned from your oversight on Erabaxx and have henceforward done your best to prevent other untimely deaths in the line of duty." It was as he spoke that understanding also dawned in Spock's oh-so-human eyes.

The crux of the Vluhn of Tilek maneuver was not the damage it could do to your opponent—although substantial, Spock once explained—but also what it did for you. The Vluhn of Tilek was a great teacher. Centuries before, on both Earth and Vulcan when both races regularly went to war, drums were an integral part of the battlefield. They were used to keep soldiers in line, rally them together and ensure a safe retreat. A soldier learned quickly that he had to be mindful of the drummer's beat; even in the heat of the moment you had to listen for it and know it as if it were your second heartbeat…or else.

That was the lesson Spock taught him that night and for many nights thereafter as he hammered the Vluhn of Tilek home: Stop. Look. Be Patient. Know when to attack, defend, retreat. Pay attention. Keep track of the beat.

Spock took the news in stride but didn't speak much after that. At the end of the night he simply wiped the floor with him before excusing himself to go meditate some more.

Jim was glad some things stayed the same.

But as he tucked the board under his arm he thought about the _other_ game they'd been playing, one where he tested the limits of his relationship with the new Spock while the Commander fleshed out the friendship between them. This game had more minefields than the one on the chess board and the end result was murky. As he left Jim couldn't decide whether he'd won, lost or drawn.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.42, 1458 hours. **It'd been an interesting last couple of days to say the least; then again life aboard the _Enterprise_ was never dull to begin with, especially not with Kirk in charge. But ever since the man woke up Len had been keeping a close eye on Spock and an even closer one on Nyota and in his opinion neither was adjusting well.

For starters, Spock hadn't gained back even a fraction of the weight he'd lost during his illness and he still refused to leave his quarters unless it was on a mandated visit to the medical bay. If he were a human McCoy would say he was depressed—and being half-human he figured he might not be too far off the mark—but when the Commander came in he coolly informed the doctor that he was spending the bulk of his time either in meditation or research. As Spock liked to remind him, he had 3.75068 years' worth of logs and away missions to catch up on.

All that research wasn't helpin' him recuperate any better either, or so he'd vainly countered. Fresh, non-replicated food, exercise and interactions with the crew would. It was only with the threat of extending his inactive duty status that he was able to wrangle a promise from the Vulcan that he would 'endeavor to take better care of his physical self' in the first place.

And Nyota wasn't any better—hell, he had to watch her with _both_ eyes because unlike her husband she resorted to outright subterfuge. She didn't think he saw her in the Mess, ordering meals only to push the food around on her plate, or the way her eyes always seemed to be red-rimmed with dark circles. Since Spock woke up she'd taken to working double shifts just to keep herself occupied and he _knew_ that wasn't healthy. He was going to have to have another talk with Jim. If they had to order her to rest…well, she'd be plenty pissed with the lot of them. Might as well give him a head's up.

It was ironic, really. Spock was trying so hard to remember while Nyota was trying so hard to forget. The whole damn situation was playing on Len's very last nerve and he wished to hell they'd never heard of Anguillida.

He looked down at the PADD in his hands and reviewed Spock's and Marks' latest cognitive test results. The Lieutenant had been up for ten days and the Commander for five yet their scores weren't anywhere near where they should've been. Marks' numbers seemed to be recovering incrementally while Spock's had barely moved at all.

Len turned on his heel and rushed back into the lab, ignoring the crewmen cowering by the door reporting for their physicals.

* * *

><p>"You called me in here because Spock doesn't have perfect recall?" Jim whined. It'd taken him the better half of a day with his head bent over a microscope for Len to find the answer he'd been looking for and when he did he plucked his friend straight out of the dinner line to share his discovery.<p>

"Stop being such an infant and listen," he grumbled back. "Along with everythin' else, we've been testing both Marks and Spock's short-term memories daily and comparin' them to the baseline results taken before we left Earth." Here he pulled up the charts and placed them side-by-side on the view screen mounted to his wall. "The blue lines are pre-Anguillida levels and red lines are post."

"So what am I lookin' at here, Bones?"

Len resisted the urge to palm-smack his own forehead at Jim's juvenile tone. He pointed to the charts. "Marks' scores are gettin' better. Spock's aren't."

"Ok…" The kid got up and stood beside him to stare at the screen. "But he's been up longer than Spock has. Isn't that kind of to be expected? Cut the man some slack, he'll catch up."

"Jim, you're not listening! He shouldn't _have_ to catch up. Spock's Vulcan; even with the amnesia his recall of the last five days should be perfect and yet…well here, listen for yourself." Len called up the recordings of each session and they both listened as Spock's voice filled the room, reciting a random list of common household items. "This was on Friday," he explained. "M'Benga had him read the twenty items out loud and commit them to memory." He fast-forwarded through the recording, rolling his eyes as the Captain chuckled at the high-pitched, super-fast talking. Really, he might as well have been running a daycare center instead of a Federation sickbay. "And here is Spock reciting the list back on Monday."

The two men listened again as the Commander's steady monotone filled the air. Jim turned to look at him, brow crinkled in confusion. "I thought you just said there were twenty items on the list? He only rattled off seventeen."

"I know." _Now he gets it_. McCoy strode back over to his desk and picked up another PADD. "He forgot three—and it isn't the first time it's happened. Spock's been forgetting things every single day he's been back in here. They're little things, mind you, but it's a big deal because it's Spock that's forgetting them; and the worst part is he doesn't even realize he _is _forgetting them. So that got me to thinking that whatever was done to them down on Anguillida might've been done on the chemical level."

Len threw up a slide he'd been working on all afternoon amidst Jim's renewed "But I thought we already looked into that?" whine.

"You see, our scans show that their brains are intact and the memories are there, but their levels of neurotransmitters are practically non-existent; and while their bodies _should _be producin' replacements they're not. Or rather they are, but they're producin' so few as to practically cancel out the loss. What they have now is barely gettin' them through the day-to-day." He threw up another scan and another slide. "It's like the neurotransmitters have been sucked right out of their heads—and who knows, that's just what might've happened—but the same procedure simultaneously inhibited the natural production of new ones. It explains why they're havin' trouble formin' new memories and still can't access the old ones, and until we get these levels stabilized and most likely increased there'll always be that void."

Jim furrowed his brow and examined the results, occasionally touching the screen and scrolling through readouts of data. "I think I follow you, but…"

"But what?"

The kid paused and pointed to the test scores on the screen. "If they _are _reproducing neurotransmitters, however slowly, why is Spock's perfect recall still on the fritz?"

Len grinned in spite of himself and began pulling up more charts. "I thought you'd never ask." He set the anonymous scan off to one side and Spock's alongside it. The first scan showed pockets of color while the second was lit up like the night sky on the Fourth of July. "This is a shot of the neural connections in a young, adult, human male of below-average-or-so intelligence, and this is the same shot of a young, adult, half-human half-Vulcan male of better-than-average intelligence." Jim still looked lost. "Ok, how about this: picture a jar full of marbles."

"Ha!"

_Juvenille_. Granted, his word choice could have been better but the metaphor was apt. "The jar of marbles is the human brain. There's some sifting, some forgetfulness, but nothing a person can't cope with day-to-day. Now add some pebbles into the jar to fill the cracks, and add some sand on top of that. No sifting, no forgetfulness. That's a Vulcan brain. Spock's got his marbles and pebbles but not the sand and _that's_ why he's falling short in all his cognitive tests."

Suddenly the joke wasn't so funny anymore and Jim's face fell. "Oh."

"Exactly."

The captain studied the results some more, nodding along thoughtfully until he took a closer look at the human brain image displayed. In spite of himself and the seriousness of the situation McCoy broke out into a rare, full blown smile.

"These are my brain scans, aren't they?"

"Like I said, _below_ average."

* * *

><p>* Vluhn of Tilek = Tilek's Drum. Chess maneuver was made up by yours truly while the Vulcan wording came from the Vulcan Language Dictionary on-line (aka the VLD).<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Happy Mother's Day all! Hope you enjoy this present (and don't forget to check out the longer author's note at the bottom).

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

_**New Vulcan Colony, **_**Stardate 2261.31, 2027 hours local time.**_ The comm. in his home office sounded with the familiar tone of a call originating aboard the U.S.S. Enterprise. Intrigued, and believing it to be the children wishing to impart some good news, Sarek rose from his meditation mat to accept. _

_The report he received was anything but joyous._

_Nyota was the most disheveled he had ever seen her and was so distressed she was speaking in a rush of Standard, Vulkhansu and Swahili. It was some time before he was able to parse out that his son had been injured and his prognosis was unknown, and it took several minutes more before he received the full account of what had happened._

_Under the best of circumstances it would be difficult for Nyota to access Spock through the bond while he was undergoing a healing trance, let alone attempt the same feat in her current state of duress. Sarek knew he also had little chance of getting through but as Spock's father and with concern for his son building he would not be deterred. _

_Settling back down on the mat he cleared his mind and sought to access the bond forged over 31.39 years ago. It was but a thin tendril of the strong, vibrant thread it formerly was; were it not for years of practice and careful introspection Sarek might have overlooked it entirely. Not since his son had first been conceived had his consciousness been so…dim._

_He began to grow worried._

* * *

><p><em><strong>New Vulcan Colony, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.32, 2348 hours local time. **_The chime had barely echoed before Sarek had Nyota's image up on the viewscreen._

_"What news of Spock's condition?" _

_If she noticed his overly emotional display she did not remark upon it. "The other man who was injured in the same incident woke up a few hours ago."_

_"And what of his recovery?"_

_"Physically Lt. Marks is healthy but his mind…" her voice trailed off. _

NO!_ A death sentence would be preferable than the loss of one's higher faculties. He stared at Nyota, coaxing her to provide a complete answer even as he feared the worst._

_"He doesn't remember the last nine days of his life."_

_His anxiety for Spock increased exponentially._

* * *

><p><em><strong>New Vulcan Colony, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.37, 0233 hours local time. **_"It is as we suspected then," he said quietly to his red-eyed daughter-in-law. She nodded. "How much time has Spock lost?"_

_"He believes it is 2257.135."_

_Inwardly Sarek winced. 3.731 years was an acute amount of time for his son to lose, especially when one considered all the life-altering events that had occurred in that short span._

_In the background he was dimly aware of Nyota outlining her plan for reintroducing Spock to the present._

* * *

><p><em><strong>New Vulcan Colony, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.45, 1400 hours local time. **Her refusal to inform Spock of the bond was beginning to take it's toll on her health—that much he could see even as she raised her hand in the ta'al. Days earlier Sarek had strongly voiced his opposition to her plan yet she refused to yield; as it were his reservations came too late. The damage had already been done, as Spock's Captain and CMO had already broken the worst of the news to him while quietly ignoring that which was of greatest import in accordance with her wishes.

The humans believed that what they were doing was right for Spock. All of them, including his daughter-in-law, were very wrong.

Nyota Uhura, he had discovered over the last few years, was a strong, independent, intelligent, human woman—much like his beloved Amanda. The comparison was bittersweet for Sarek even as he was grateful that his son was so fortunate as to find the same love that he and his own wife had shared. And while Sarek found much to admire in his daughter-in-law's character in this most recent decision he found much at fault; but it could not be helped. A Vulcan woman would have made different choices yet despite being extremely adept in Vulcan ways Nyota was still human, and psi null at that. She did not comprehend that withholding the truth from Spock was not the kindness she thought it to be. They were too deeply rooted in one another's psyches—even T'Pau had remarked after the bonding how strong the connection between them was, an unheard of admission from her—to allow an incident like this to tear them apart, yet Nyota was allowing it to do just that.

She did not understand that the bond still existed: deeply buried and momentarily forgotten perhaps, but the pull, the attraction between them was still there.

It would always be there.

However, discussing such a thing with Spock was forbidden. A bond was a deeply private, personal thing, and Sarek could not tell his son the truth no matter how much he wanted to. Decorum prohibited it.

"Greetings, ko-fu."

"Greetigs, sa-mekh. I trust all is well with the colony?"

He nodded. Only long years of diplomatic service granted him the patience to go through the motions with such trivialities. "Yes, all is well. The Elders and I have recently been informed that ground will be broken on the new Vulcan Science Academy in 62 days' time. Our builders calculate that the work will be completed within 2.47 years."

His announcement brought a small smile to her wan face. "That is wonderful news." Indeed it was good news as their race made another step forward on the long road toward rebuilding.

There was a long pause between them, an almost unheard of thing in the few short years of their acquaintance. "Nyota."

"Yes?"

"It has been 21.33 days since I last spoke with my son."

* * *

><p>"…the Elders and I have recently been informed that ground will be broken on the new Vulcan Science Academy in 62 days' time. Our builders calculate that the work will be completed within 2.41 years."<p>

"That is wonderful news." Nyota smiled, keeping up with the niceties even as she wondered what her father-in-law's real motives were for calling. The only certainty she had was that his plans concerned Spock.

In the aftermath of Vulcan's destruction she had become something of a go-between for Sarek and Spock—a role which she rightly suspected Amanda had filled in her lifetime. She initially encouraged the weekly comm. calls between father and son to help them both through their grief and from there the conversations developed naturally until they eagerly anticipated the talks (though those exact words were not ones either party would necessarily ascribe to). Nyota was pleased that the relationship that was once so strained had been re-forged.

Now she wondered, given Spock's memory loss, where that left the two of them. Early on in their own relationship she was aware that Spock harbored a fair degree of resentment toward his father for being hypercritical of him, especially when the Vulcan community and later the VSA so publicly debased Spock andAmanda.

"Nyota."

Sarek's solemn voice broke her out of her reverie. "Yes?"

"It has been 21.33 days since I last spoke with my son."

Her heart caught in her throat. He missed Spock.

"I desire to communicate with him now; however, I do not wish to cause him any undue stress in his current state."

She fought to keep a neutral expression on her face. So he _was_ concerned about how Spock might receive him too.

"Sarek…" Nyota hesitated, unsure of what to tell him. If her hunch were right than his call would only do more harm than good and agitate Spock more than he already was; and yet if someone were to try and prevent her from contacting _her _child…

Still, he was asking for her opinion. Her father-in-law was not oblivious to the emotional turmoil Spock was likely to experience due to his predicament.

"May I be frank with you?"

One arched eyebrow rose high into his hairline. "I do not see how you can be anything other than Nyota, but by all means, continue."

Vulcan humor; she missed that. Nyota rolled her eyes and smiled. The two S'chn T'gai men sure had come a long way. "I don't know that he'll be happy to hear from you right now. Getting a call from you will probably be more confusing than anything else. He'll question your motives. He doesn't remember…" _That you love him. That you loved Amanda_.

Sarek looked as if he'd heard her speak that last bit aloud, then quirked his head and considered her input. She could see him calculating the pros and cons of his decision behind half-veiled eyes but in her heart-of-hearts she knew the choice had already been made.

"I find that in spite of your precautions I still wish to make the attempt."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.46, 1415 hours.** He returned to the planes of conscious thought to the sound of the comm. unit chiming in the far corner of his quarters. More and more of his time these days was spent in careful contemplation as Spock sifted through the data and emotions of the present he remembered to the present that was, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress the rage over all that had been taken from him. He rose from his mat and crossed the room, reading the incoming address scrolling at the bottom of the screen with interest.

"Computer, accept transmission." The image of his father flickered before him as he settled into his seat yet it was not the man he remembered. "Greetings, Ambassador."

"Greetings, sa-fu."

_Well_. This was an intriguing new development. Sarek had not called him son since the day he left Vulcan for San Francisco. Either a lot had changed or the stress of recent events had brought about the early onset of Bendii Syndrome, he could not tell. Whatever the case, Spock was still on his guard. The man wanted something, he was certain of it.

"You appear well."

He nodded, lips clamped firmly shut, for he could not lie and say the same. Sarek had aged twenty years in only a fifth of the time; hair grayer, visage wizened, carriage hunched and expression tired. Judging by the infinitesimal lift of his eyebrow Sarek was well aware of the unfavorable appraisal yet chose not to address it.

"I have been informed that you do not recall any of the events prior to stardate 2257.135. Is this correct?"

Spock ground his teeth at the sudden up swell of fury the question brought. Was his entire medical history up for discussion with anyone and everyone in the quadrant?

Apparently he was not as circumspect at concealing his irritation as he thought. "My son, I am merely inquiring after the state of your health given your recent experiences on the planet Anguillida. I have no ulterior motive for contacting you. Are you still affected by the memory loss?"

His father knew he was, yet years with a human spouse had him asking the rhetorical anyway. "Yes," Spock replied after several moments introspection. "I am affected by the memory loss and I find the entire experience to be very…trying."

The Ambassador nodded politely at the understatement. "Might I assist you in anyway?"

* * *

><p>He saw the intense distrust in his son's eyes—eyes that were so like Amanda's—and the pain and confusion too. Spock's control over his emotions was tenuous at best and even Sarek could not fault him for his feelings; they were based on a past that was still fresh in his son's memory and filled with incidents and slights that Sarek still came to regret.<p>

Regrets were illogical and yet he had reason for them. They started on the day Spock was born (_"You missed the birth! I wanted you here!" Amanda sobbed. And his response to her tears? "It is not the Vulcan way."_). Sarek had always wanted what was best for his son; he failed to see how ignoring his child's humanity only caused more hurt. His silence that fateful day at the VSA was disgraceful—he should have defended his wife and child regardless of the judgment his fellow elders might have passed—and the rift his inaction caused fractured the family irreparably. It took nearly a decade and a cataclysmic event to learn from his mistakes and heal…

…only Spock was not cognizant of a reconciliation ever taking place.

"I am not in need of any assistance at this time."

The '_from you'_ was implicit and the hard look on Spock's face fairly roared _'LEAVE ME ALONE!'_

* * *

><p>"Might I assist you in anyway?"<p>

_Ahh_. Now he understood; Sarek had called to gloat. He never approved of Starfleet and now that this grave misfortune had befallen him his misgivings were proved to be well-founded. Spock wondered how much longer the torture would continue as he struggled to maintain his unruffled composure.

"I am not in need of any assistance at this time," he replied, biting back the venom that stole into his voice.

A long pause followed, not unlike the silence he recalled filling the entry chamber of the VSA. An ambient noise was picked up by the transmission…

Wait. Was that…was Sarek _sighing_?

"I understand. Do not hesitate to contact me should your circumstances change." His father raised his weathered hand again in the ta'al. "Dif-tor heh smusa."

Curious at the turn the conversation had taken Spock dutifully mirrored the farewell. "Sochya e dif." The screen went blank, yet he continued to stare at it for a further 5.60 minutes as he struggled to reconcile the Sarek he once knew with the one he had just spoken with.

This was no alternate reality; that _was_ his father, and yet everything he thought he knew to be true about the man had changed. There was a time where he believed Sarek would never speak to him again and now he was not only calling of his own accord but was seemingly sincere in his offers of assistance. The change within him was so great it was almost incomprehensible.

And for the first time since his release from sickbay Spock began to wonder what else in his life had changed for the better…

* * *

><p>…meanwhile, on New Vulcan, Sarek privately mourned the loss of the close relationship he had worked so hard to build with his son.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.47, 0143 hours. **It took a few more hours of meditation before Spock felt collected enough to venture out of his quarters without incident. Regrettably his timing put him in the middle of ship's night.

Privately, Spock was both disappointed and relieved by this turn of events. It meant that the majority of the crew he had interacted with daily for the last 2.57 years of their mission were in the middle of their REM cycle yet his timing also afforded him the opportunity to explore the ship at his own pace.

He began his inspection in engineering and steadily worked his way up the decks. In his opinion the _Enterprise_ was ergonomically designed as well as aesthetically pleasing, though that was to be expected from the flagship of Starfleet. Upon entering the empty science lab a trill of pride ran up his spine and he felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward ever so slightly as he surveyed his domain.

Perhaps he was not as prepared to interact with the crew as he believed himself to be.

Continuing his tour Spock debated whether to include a breakfast trip to the Mess when he happened upon three ensigns in the hall. He sensed their trepidation in his presence even as they stood respectfully at attention. Was it his rank that they feared or was it him? Had he endured this type of quiet hostility every day since they left spacedock? The few crewmembers he had encountered previously—the Captain, the Doctor, the other medical personnel—were they deferential toward him out of some sense of professional courtesy?

Or was it pity?

If that was the case then what was he still doing on-board this ship?

He was here, he realized, because now that Vulcan was no more he had nowhere else to go; with their numbers so greatly reduced the colony would not welcome him since he had nothing of genetic value to contribute.

Home, he realized with a pang, had died with his mother.

The ensigns' sighs of relief—audible only to his ears—haunted him as he moved along down the corridor.

Spock was regretting ever leaving his quarters when he heard the faint sounds of muttering emanating from the room to his right. Setting foot into Recreation Room 7 he discovered a young man with short, curly hair standing in the back corner with a marker between his lips and a fraught expression on his face. He recognized the man from the _Enterprise's_ crew complement as Ensign Pavel Chekov, ship's navigator and tactician. Closer inspection showed the Ensign to be engaged in completing a series of complex algorithms in conjunction with another series of amateur sketches. Intrigued, Spock strode further into the room until he was directly behind the young man.

"Ensign."

"AIEEEE!"

* * *

><p><em>Take the square root and divide by 32. Multiply by the ship's estimated current speed. Plug into the equation and then calculate the angle of trajectory to arrive at plot 5.0079…<em>

"Ensign."

Chekov let out an undignified squeal as he leapt into the air heart hammering in his chest. Spinning around he came face to face with a man he hadn't seen in 17 days and Pavel was so happy to see him alive and well he almost reached out and hugged him. "О мой Бог!* Meester Spock! Eet ees so good to see you again, Sir!"

Spock nodded, his cool level gaze serving to calm Pavel's own excitability, then leaned over for a closer examination of the work on the window. It was clear that his friend didn't recognize the game they once spent hours playing when neither one could sleep. "I see that you are utilizing the Menkoff Theorem, though to what end I cannot determine. Might I inquire as to where you are extrapolating your data and why you are completing your work in such a highly irregular fashion?"

Pavel tried to tamp down the flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks. "Eet ees, well, you see…eet ees a game of sorts. One I started back vhen I vas at the Academy. I cannot turn my brain off and vhen I hav trouble sleeping I come in here and play so I von't bother anybody. Thees helps me to relax." He got no answer from the Commander so he pointed to the board instead. "See, by calculating the deestance of the stars from our current trajectory and plotting the points on thees three-dimensional graph ve can see an image."

Spock quirked his head and examined the window with renewed interest. Just like before Chekov found his game as a way to connect to the Commander.

"Fascinating." He took another slow step forward, peering at his last design—a flower. "Though if I understand you correctly, Mr. Chekov, you would not want to turn your brain off. Should your higher brain functions cease Doctor McCoy would be forced to declare you dead and we would have to find a replacement for you on the bridge."

"Ha!" Hilarity and relief made the laughter practically pour out of his mouth. When the bridge crew had been apprised of Spock's condition no one was sure what to expect and it was just so _good_ to see his dry sense of humor still intact.

* * *

><p>Spock did not know what came over him: one minute he was listening intently to the outline of Mr. Chekov's mental exercise, the next he was making what his mother used to refer to as a 'wry joke'; and now, if the Ensign's physical reaction was any indication, it appeared he had lost the respect of a member of his command crew due to his lapse.<p>

He took a deep cleansing breath and briefly closed his eyes. He _would_ overcome this; he would overcome and endure. _Balance and control. Balance and control. Balance and…_

"I'm sorry, Commander," Chekov said as he wiped at his eyes. Then the young man looked up into his face and his jaw instantly went slack. "I'm sorry," he repeated more seriously, "I vas not laughing at you, I vas laughing vith you. Eet ees good to see that you are really alright. Ve vere not sure there for awhile."

Now Spock was truly confused. Was Mr. Chekov implying that he made remarks like this to his subordinates on a regular basis? And they respected him _more_ for it?

The thought was horrifying.

Ensign Chekov must have read something in his inscrutable expression because he let the conversation drop as he turned back to the window. "I do not know vhat to make of thees current piece. I think thees may be a dog?"

Personally the image reminded him of a newborn sehlat but he refrained from saying so outright lest he exhibit a sense of nostalgia as well as a sense of humor. In all honesty he was more fascinated by the process the image derived from than anything else and appreciated the opportunity for creative expression while working within the strict framework of mathematical theorems that the Ensign had constructed. In that respect the exercise was almost uniquely Vulcan.

"So what you are saying is that you see a Terran canine in the passing stars of the Beta quadrant?"

"Da, a puppy! That ees exactly eet!" With a flourish Chekov completed the drawing, replete with collar, and removed the grid lines.

It was indeed a most interesting sight watching the eager young man work. "Fascinating."

"Da," he agreed. The navigator beamed all the more at his drawing then extended the pen. "Vould you like to try?"

He stared down at the implement. Spock found himself drawn to the activity like a moth to a flame. Although there had not been much of import in their conversation thus far he felt a particular kinship with Ensign Chekov, a rarity for him among any species let alone among humans.

Perhaps there was more to his staying aboard the _Enterprise_ than simply having no home to return to.

Slowly Spock reached out and took hold of the marker, and with Chekov's instructions the pair continued their efforts until the wee hours of the morning.

* * *

><p><strong>*<strong>О мой Бог - Russian for 'Oh My G-d'

**A/N: **Wow. I had NO idea that so many people were going to react to Chapter 3 the way that they did. With that in mind I decided to post Chapter 4 a bit early. Just to address the biggest issues people had: Kirk, McCoy and the rest of the _Enterprise _do care about Spock and Uhura. Last chapter Jim was just being Jim, trying to pretend that everything was normal; teasing Uhura was just par for the course. Also, Nyota is only human (a brilliant one, true, but still human). She's allowed to make mistakes like the one she's currently making.

Just remember: everything is happening for a reason. You'll see.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.51, 1233 hours. **He finished his meal and inserted the tray in the recycling slot alongside Dr. M'Benga before following him back to the medical bay. Ordinarily he would have been content to take his lunch in his quarters but the deviation in routine had been brought about by an overhaul of his recuperative schedule. His cognitive therapy sessions now took place squarely in the middle of the ship's lunch hour and more often than not Spock found himself escorted to the Mess by any number of doctors or nurses on staff before returning to sickbay for more testing.

If Dr. McCoy believed Spock to be oblivious to this subterfuge than he was mistaken. He was well aware that he was still under the minimum healthy weight requirements for active duty and now the CMO had found a legitimate way to make good on his threat to force feed him. The Commander was not amused; still, Spock strove not to let his irritation show and he gradually noticed his emotionalism subsiding.

At least one aspect of his life was within his control again.

As they walked back to sickbay Dr. M'Benga kept up a steady stream of conversation requiring only the occasional nod or two from him; it was at that moment that he turned away and almost ran headlong into Lieutenant Uhura. She looked just as he remembered her 3.769 years prior: long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, the ends grazing her shoulders in time with her walk, her chin buried in a PADD. The cadet reds had been swapped for the standard issue uniform but the exposed skin of her arms and legs still glowed against the rich tones of the fabric.

Their last conversation—the last one he remembered—had taken place the afternoon prior to his memory wipe.

_"Your pronunciation has improved, Cadet. There are very few humans of my experience who can properly manipulate their tongue to elicit the Andorian formal and informal verbs, much less use them correctly. You will undoubtedly pass your final examination with high marks." Illogically he hoped she could hear the pride resonating in his tone._

_Cadet Uhura flopped down in her chair and smiled tiredly as he handed her study PADD back across the desk. Although Spock had no more work for her until after the final examinations were complete his TA found his office a convenient place to study…and he found he rather looked forward to her joining him there, especially when her face lit up each time she attained a new goal._

_"You said my pronunciation has improved; what that really means is that it's not perfect."_

_Spock quirked his head at the curious statement. There would be many cadets (and a few professors) who would be quite pleased with his assessment. "That would be correct. Only an Andorian native would be able to speak the language perfectly, and that does not account for the difference in regional dialects, nor for the portion of the population that is mute, nor…"_

_"But Commander," she interrupted him with a wicked smile and a gleam in her eye as she handed the PADD back, "I want to be able to speak it __perfectly__."_

He had always admired her quest for perfection. She had been the best TA for him precisely for that reason. He and Cadet Uhura held themselves and those around them to the highest possible standards; those that failed to utilize their full potential did not last long in his classroom, nor did they succeed in maintaining her friendship for any sizable duration.

Now her eyes widened by .16 centimeters at the sight of him before side-stepping the pair with a curt nod and a parting "Commander" as she continued on her way.

Spock stared after her until she rounded the bend then followed Dr. M'Benga back to sickbay. He could not understand why she had moved along so quickly with so little conversation when she had once informed him that he was indeed a friend. The Lieutenant's puzzling behavior went against everything he thought he knew about human behavior and friendship in particular.

It was not until they re-entered sickbay that he recalled the spark was missing from her eyes.

* * *

><p>Nyota was startled by his sudden appearance and sucked in a breath to keep her composure. He looked far healthier than he had the last time she saw him—his color was better and he was beginning to fill out his clothes more—and though his face belayed calm his eyes still spoke of immense pain. She couldn't bear to see him hurting.<p>

"Commander."

It was all she could do to choke out the word and hurry along; only when she was out of sight did she stop and press herself flat against the wall to shut her eyes. A single, salty tear slid down her cheek.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.53, 1005 hours. **The botany lab doors opened and Commander Spock strode in, pausing just inside the doorway to take a look around. Chekov told him he'd been out of his quarters but few others had seen him since and the sight of him in civilian clothing standing at attention in his lab was a bit of a shock.

"Commander!" Breaking away from his work, Hikaru wiped his dirty hands down the front of his apron as he quickly moved to the front of the room. "I heard you were out and about! It's good to see you!"

His friend gave him a curt nod. "The Doctor has entreated me to 'get out more' and I am endeavoring to do as he ordered."

Sulu smiled; the two of them were still at it. "Well I'm glad you decided to pop in here!" He cast about for something more to say when an alert at the back of the lab sounded. "Excuse me." He weaved his way through the tables of plants and felt Spock following close behind. Turning off a few valves Sulu examined the row of seedlings and recorded his results while his friend remained conspicuously quiet, eying an object in the corner of the room. It was some moments more before he turned to see what had arrested the Commander's attention and when he did Sulu smiled.

"Cadet, is that a…?"

"A Cladmian fire plant? Sure is. Picked her up a few months ago from a vendor on Starbase IV. I gotta say it's been pretty interesting studying one up close, though I doubt Security would agree. Turns out the seller got the plant date wrong and it erupted a full week ahead of schedule. Everyone wanted to throw it out the airlock for all the trouble it caused."

His '_but you wouldn't let them' _hung unspoken in the air_. _

Hikaru gazed at the plant, recalling the initial, startling burst as it began it's ascent to the next stage of growth. He'd managed to summon Spock, who'd expressed an interest in witnessing the event when they first brought the plant aboard, amidst the blaring klaxons and rush of personnel scrambling for cover. Not expecting the phoenix stage until the following week none of their safety protocols were yet in place: several experiments were ruined and Security was on the verge of evacuating the entire deck as a precaution, not believing them when they said it wouldn't burn out of control. They were incredibly lucky no one got hurt.

He and Spock had been the only ones unfazed by the entire dangerous proceedings.

"Fascinating." It brought a smile to Sulu's lips to see that some things hadn't changed. "If it is permissible I would like to be present at the next phoenix stage." He frowned while Spock continued to examine the plant.

"Oh, and Commander? It's Lieutenant Sulu now. I know it's kind of sudden but a lot of us got rapid field promotions after…"

Mercifully Sulu remembered himself in time and stopped short. He hadn't been briefed on how much his friend did or didn't know about Vulcan's end; he'd only been told that he was awake and missing the last four years of his life. That would put Spock's memories firmly before the Narada and he certainly didn't want to be the one to tell him that his home world was gone.

* * *

><p>Dr. McCoy was proving to be a rather relentless physician, interrupting him in his quarters at all hours of the day in addition to the time spent haranguing him whenever he was in sickbay. In an effort to evade him while satisfying his own curiosity Spock decided to venture over to the botany lab and had come upon Lieutenant Sulu in his element.<p>

His attention was called away from the Cladmian fire plant when the other man started conversing again. "Oh, and Commander? It's Lieutenant Sulu now. I know it's kind of sudden but a lot of us got rapid field promotions after…"

He had not addressed him by his proper rank? Spock searched his memory and found he had indeed wrongly referred to Mr. Sulu as Cadet. It was highly unusual for him to make such a slip and he could not recall another instance where such a thing had occurred. Why was this happening to him now? Was this related to his recent injury, and had there been other such instances in the past 17.59 days that no one had made him aware of?

Spock knew he would have to inquire about it with the Doctor when he went in on Monday, assuminghe could avoid the man for that long.

"It would appear that I misspoke, Lieutenant; and while I appreciate your discretion it is unnecessary. The Captain has informed me of the destruction of Vulcan, along with other particulars from that time." The words came out uniformly even as his heart seized upon discussing the event for the first time out loud.

* * *

><p>"Oh."<p>

Sulu waited to see if his friend wanted to talk about it but he remained tight-lipped. He walked back down the rows tending to his plants with Spock a good meter or so behind. The more he thought about it the more Hikaru realized what a long stretch of time four years was to lose. It didn't seem so long ago when you talked about it in the abstract but when you went from being a cadet to doing all the crazy things he'd done since joining the _Enterprise_ it felt like a whole other lifetime ago. If the situation were reversed Sulu doubted he'd be holding it together nearly as well as the Commander.

The pair soon began working in tandem: watering plants, monitoring temperature changes, transplanting seedlings and recording results. The normalcy of it all lulled Hikaru into making another faux pas. "So, how's Uhura?"

Spock stopped abruptly and cocked his head to the side. "I do not understand the nature of the question. If you wish to ascertain the well being of Cadet…" he stopped himself short and Hikaru almost swore he saw him grimace "…of _Lieutenant_ Uhura, than I suggest you ask her yourself." He then did an about face and walked straight out of the lab.

Sulu cuffed the back of his own head for forgetting that the Commander hadn't yet been caught up on _all_ the particulars.

* * *

><p>The mere mention of Uhura made him go rigid. In spite of all his meditation Spock still could not put his feelings surrounding her and their encounter two days ago in order. His observations of human behavior led him to believe that she was upset with him; he attempted to research the matter by combing through the ship's records only to find no evidence of any altercation between them ever noted…indeed, if the logs were to be believed there had been very little interaction between them at all in the intervening years. The more Spock tried to reconcile his thoughts on the matter with what little data he had the more the unidentifiable emotion smoldered beneath the surface.<p>

He also found it curious that Lieutenant Sulu thought to inquire about her through _him_.

"I do not understand the nature of the question. If you wish to ascertain the well being of Cadet…" Spock fought to keep the grimace off his face as he made yet another mistake within the last 22.43 minutes, "…of _Lieutenant_ Uhura, than I suggest you ask her yourself."

Enough was enough; this simply _would not_ do. There was too much information about his condition being withheld from him. His need for answers overrode his desire to avoid sickbay and Spock abruptly quit the room to find the CMO.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.53, 1039 hours.**Well well, he hadn't expected to see Spock in here today. Then again McCoy hadn't expected to be called in to consult on a 2nd degree burn that a foolish ensign in engineering failed to report. Now the area was infected and while ordinarily the CMO wouldn't need to be bothered by something so easily treatable the ensign's Capellan physiology managed to compound the problem significantly enough to require his input.

Still, seeing the Commander come in voluntarily was slightly alarming. Len gave the Vulcan the once over out of the corner of his eye just to be sure he wasn't bleedin' anywhere but satisfied that that wasn't the case he turned his attention back to M'Benga. Geoff finished outlining his treatment plan while Spock stood respectfully off to the side and waited his turn.

"Ok, let's get that herbal compress on her leg and see if the swelling goes down within the next half hour. If not we may have to resort to more barbaric methods…like leeches." McCoy glared at the girl as she paled. "That's right, I said leeches." He was joking of course but she didn't need to know that—she probably didn't even know what leeches were, just the idea of 'em was barbaric enough. The ensign's face was drawn and she managed to look sufficiently cowed so he knew he got his point home.

See if she'd ever do a damn foolish thing like this ever again.

When he was through he strode over to Spock but was cut off before he could open his mouth. "Dr. McCoy, I would like to have a few words with you—in private." If he didn't know better he'd say the hobgoblin was upset. Len lead him over to his office and made it clear to Ofunzi that they weren't to be disturbed.

He took a seat behind the desk and folded his hands on the surface waiting to see what this visit was about.

"I am here to request access to all of my cognitive test results, effective immediately."

_That_ demand took Len by surprise, especially because it was one he wasn't inclined to give in to, no matter the regs. Spock had been getting along perfectly well without knowing the full extent of his memory problems, and in his expert opinion it would be better for him to stay that way. He'd be happier…well, as happy as the elf ever got at any rate. "Why?"

"Clarify."

_Now why couldn't the damn eels fix __that__ annoying tic and leave the rest well enough alone? _"Why do you want your cognitive test results, _Commander_?"

"I would like the materials because I have detected two errors that I have made in my speech today. The first oversight was pointed out to me by Lieutenant Sulu. The second followed approximately 22.43 minutes later. At the time I made each statement I believed myself to be correct. I have never misspoken in this manner before and I believe this to be a direct result of my experiences on Anguillida. My desire is to have these facts either confirmed or denied by your reports."

The unspoken emphasis made it clear to McCoy that there was no gettin' around this. Even if he pulled rank there was no reason why he should outright refuse Spock except that he wanted to spare his friend more pain. "Alright," he agreed quietly, reaching in a side drawer for an empty PADD. He quickly transferred all the data before on file before placing it in Spock's outstretched hand.

His eyes darted back and forth as he read through page after page. Len wasn't Nyota—he couldn't parse out expressions on Spock's unreadable Vulcan face like she could—but if the increasing tension in the air was any indication than his mood wasn't good, especially after he read the prognosis.

When he was through Spock stood up and gave Len a nod before walking straight out of sickbay without a backward glance.

* * *

><p>His quarters were the only safe place right now: for him and for everyone else on board. "Computer, lock door and engage soundproofing, authorization code Spock Alpha 079."<p>

"Acknowledged."

When he was certain he was alone Spock gave a mighty shout that rattled the walls, hurling the PADD across the room where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.55, 0935 hours. **"Thank you all. Dismissed." The bridge crew got up and filed out of the ready room prepared to face another day. "Mr. Scott, a word, if you please?"

"Just one, Cap'n?" the engineer teased. "That seems highly unlikely comin' from you, Sir."

Jim grinned and moved over to where he stood near the door. "I know you've been Acting First Officer ever since everything happened with Spock but I have to make a formal entry into the logs for HQ soon and I wanted to let you know that I'll be extending your acting status even after Spock's back on full-duty." The Scotsman's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "It's only temporary, Scotty, and only if the worst should happen. Spock remembers protocol but he doesn't remember the crew and I can't just thrust him into leadership like that. It wouldn't be fair to anyone and it's not what's best for the _Enterprise_. This is only until he gets back on his feet."

"Aye, that's what worries me," Monty replied with a grimace. "It's not just that I dinnae want the job but Commander Spock is already on his feet. Who knows when the rest of 'im will catch up? I'll be yer second fer years!" The engineer looked horrified at the prospect. If Jim looked at his own track record without the rose-colored glasses on he'd know why.

"I can assure you, Mr. Scott, that I will endeavor to 'catch up' as swiftly as possible. Captain, may I have a few words with you?"

"Sure."

Scotty parted company with his cheeks as red as beets and beat a hasty retreat to the safety of his engines. Jim headed down the hall toward the bridge and motioned for Spock to follow.

"Captain, if I may…"

"It's Jim, Spock. Call me Jim."

He considered him quizzically. "As my superior officer I cannot break protocol and refer to you in any way other than your official status."

Jim sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course you can't," he said under his breath. Than he cursed, recalling Vulcan hearing. "Was there something I could do for you, Commander?"

"Indeed. As you are well aware, Doctor McCoy has put me on six weeks inactive duty status in order to allow me to re-acclimate myself to the ship; however, I find that amount of time to be too excessive. I am in optimal health and am fully capable of resuming my former duties."

* * *

><p>Spock's discussion with the Doctor that morning had not gone as he would have liked. The man could not be made to see reason. His argument was sound and there was no logical reason why he should be kept on the inactive duty roster for a further 23.89 days.<p>

It was almost as if Dr. McCoy were being purposely contrary with him just because he could. He was making it a mission to torment Spock and the Commander was beginning to see that the Doctor would be his most challenging adversary on the ship.

No matter then. He would simply follow protocol and speak with someone in a position of authority over Dr. McCoy…and that person was Captain James T. Kirk.

Spock waited patiently for the Captain outside the ready room until the morning meeting adjourned. Lt. Uhura was one of the first to leave and made her way quickly around him to her station; but today he paid her little heed as he had his own agenda to focus on. When the Captain did not exit Spock prepared to seek him out but stopped when he heard muted voices on the other side of the partition.

"It's only temporary, Scotty, and only if the worst should happen. Spock remembers protocol," _Clearly_, he thought with an eyebrow lift, "but he doesn't remember the crew and I can't just thrust him into leadership like that. It wouldn't be fair to anyone and it's not what's best for the _Enterprise_. This is only until he gets back on his feet."

"Aye, that's what worries me," a heavily accented voice replied. "It's not just that I dinnae want the job but Commander Spock is already on his feet. Who knows when the rest of 'im will catch up? I'll be yer second fer years!"

He was disheartened at the pronouncement as he believed, however falsely, in the 4.902% chance that he might be cured of his amnesia; yet as the Captain and Chief Engineer exited the room he tried not to let his disappointment show.

"I can assure you, Mr. Scott, that I will endeavor to 'catch up' as swiftly as possible." The engineer turned bright red and murmured under his breath as he fled. Spock turned his attention to the other man. "Captain, might I have a word?"

* * *

><p>Kirk stopped in the middle of the hall. He didn't want to go over Bones' head, especially when he thought of all the revenge the man could dish out under the guise of 'medical necessity', but his Science Officer could also not be easily dismissed. "I trust you've made your request to Dr. McCoy?"<p>

"Affirmative."

"And he didn't go for it?" Spock continued to stare at him with a puzzled expression. "I mean he didn't see your point of view when you mentioned this idea to him?"

"That would be correct, Captain. As Chief Medical Officer he has complete autonomy over this matter save for one other person."

Jim grinned at the thought. "Let me guess, that person's me?"

"Affirmative."

_Well don't I have all the perks? _"Alright, tell you what I'll do. I'll try and talk to Bones and see if I can get him to ease up on the restrictions, ok? But in the meantime why don't you just rest up, take it easy, and show him you're on your best behavior. I can't make any promises but it might help tip the scales in your favor."

Spock raised an eyebrow as he deciphered his standard before nodding once in agreement. "I will endeavor to follow your advice."

"Good. You do that." He clasped the Commander hard on the back then watched him turn and walk away before setting foot on the bridge. Jim was already dreading the rest of the day and he hadn't even had his third cup of coffee yet_._

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.55, 2251 hours. **He barely finished pressing the buzzer when the door slid open. "I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up," Bones muttered as he turned back inside. Jim slipped in and settled down at the table while his buddy fished in a cabinet for a bottle and some glasses. He held one aloft. "You want one?"

"You have to ask?"

The bourbon was poured in silence and each took a long, contemplative sip, Jim staring idly over the rim at Bones' boots kicked off in a corner.

"So are we gonna talk about everyone's favorite Science Officer or aren't we?"

He rolled his eyes. Couldn't he let him finish a drink first? Apparently not. "He wants to…"

"No," the doctor cut him off abruptly. "I knew he was goin' to go over my head but the answer's still no. I wasn't bein' generous when I ordered him off for six weeks. He needs that time to adjust, Jim, and if Saturday is any indication than he might need even more time than that."

_Christ._ He wiped his tired eyes before setting his glass aside. "What happened Saturday?"

"Spock knows he's having recurring memory problems." Jim winced. "He confronted me and I had to tell him. He'd been in the botany lab talking to Sulu when he figured it out and came to me for confirmation. I had personal reasons but no medical ones so I had to tell him."

"How'd he take the news?"

Bones scowled. "How'd he take it? Like a Vulcan, that's how; but if my hunch is right I doubt I'll see my PADD back in one piece anytime soon."

Jim sighed and sank lower into his chair. This was turning into a bigger g-ddamn mess than he could've ever predicted. Why the hell did those bastards have to go mucking about in his friend's brain? Still, he promised Spock he'd at least try and make a decent argument on his behalf. "Maybe if you let him come back to work…"

"Have you been listenin' to anythin' I've been sayin'? I know I'm not a psychologist but I'm tellin' you he's not fit to handle the stress of command!"

"What about…"

McCoy fixed him with a laser-like glare. "He's. Not. Ready."

Kirk threw up his hands. "Geez, alright, I get it, but could you at least hear me out?" Bones didn't say a word but he didn't look like he was going to stop him either. "I understand but I think between the three of us we can reach some sort of compromise. It's clear to me that Spock thinks he has too _much_ time on his hands. Can we at least agree on that?" Len shot him a nod. "Ok. What if, starting Wednesday, you let him come back on half shifts? Just in the science lab and not on the bridge, but it'll be enough so Spock feels like he's doing something productive. Would that be ok?" Another nod. "And if that works out well after a week maybe we can see about increasing his time on-shift from there. This way you get your mandatory down-time and Spock gets to come back to work."

"I still have some concessions I want him to make."

Jim fought the urge to groan. Was Bones ever in a snit. He was really going to reap it next time he found himself in sickbay. "Ok…?"

"He's still three kilos underweight _AND_ he hardly ever leaves his quarters. I know he needs to meditate but if Spock wants to start working full-time again he's going to need to interact with the crew for more than five minutes at a stretch and not retreat to his room at the first sign of trouble. You need to get him to promise to take three square meals a day in the Mess AND spend at least 2 hours engaged in activities outside his quarters."

Negotiating with a legion of Tellarites was easier than this. "What do you want him to do for 2 hours if you won't let him work? Twiddle his thumbs?"

"I don't know…take up racket ball or learn basket weaving or just _something_ so he's not always sittin' there chantin' over his firepot!" He pointed a finger at him. "I'm not being unreasonable here so don't you go makin' me feel like I am either. It's as much for the crew's sake as it is for Spock's. They need to see him goin' about the ship like he used to if they're ever going to trust him once he's in a position to command."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I know, I know, you're right; I'm just not sure I'll be able to get him to agree."

The Doctor leaned back in his seat and stretched out, bringing the bourbon up to his lips while looking very pleased with himself. "Well if he wants to go back on active duty as much as he says he does than he's goin' to have to, now isn't he?"

Bones could be a real sadistic son-of-a-gun sometimes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.57, 2000 hours. **_The Hippocratic Oath must not apply to one Leonard H. McCoy_, Spock mentally cursed as the day wore on. Each hour had brought with it some new indignity to be endured in order to fulfill his part in the bargain that allowed him to return to work and it was all due to the Chief Medical Officer. The only solace Spock found throughout the day was in his time in the science lab; everything was clean, well-ordered and well-run. He had suitably trained his subordinates and aside from a few directives he was permitted to review his backlog of reports in relative peace.

Now though, he could put the day behind him and enter his quarters to meditate—or he could engage in '2 hours of any recreational activity of his choosing' so that he might enjoy the privilege of working tomorrow.

Spock stared in what could best be described as forlorn at his closed front door debating over which was the lesser of two evils.

The distinct voice of the Chief Engineer echoed down the hall. "Ach, the wee beastie, I hate it when he's right!" Spock looked up and saw the man's entire body was covered in grease, with the only clean thing being the scanner in his hands. Mr. Scott looked up just in time to avoid colliding with him. "Oh, Commander! I dinnae see you there!"

"I find that statement rather difficult to comprehend, Mr. Scott, as I am currently occupying a solid 1.859 meters of space in a hallway that is an even 3 meters across."

"Aye, right you are. Well…" the engineer looked him over dubiously. "Sorry 'bout that agin. Have a good night, Sir." He went back to manipulating his scanner and carrying on down the hallway.

It was then that Spock had an interesting thought; Doctor McCoy specified that he must spend time away from his quarters, yet he did not specify how or when or where. Surely offering to assist Mr. Scott in Engineering would fulfill his obligation? Spock inquired after whether any help was needed.

The Scotsman stopped in his tracks and perked right up. "Why sure! That's right nice of you! Plus it'll be good to see you in Engineerin' agin. It's been too long."

The men turned together and walked down toward the bowels of the ship, Mr. Scott talking rather animatedly the entire way about a man named Keenser as well as the repairs and modifications he was currently attempting to make to the engines. Only when he was alone, flat on his back and firmly ensconced under a bulk head with a wrench in his hands did Spock allow himself a moment of pleasure for having thwarted Doctor McCoy at his own game.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.64, 1930 hours. **The Doctor quickly caught on to his ploy and began placing more conditions on his conditions. There would be no more midnight trips to 'assist' in Engineering (unless the ship was in a state of emergency); no more brief periods of activity followed by prolonged periods of seclusion eventually totaling 2 hours; no more counting meals as time spent engaging in a 'recreational' activity, etc. The list went on and on until Spock felt like a child again, only even then he acknowledged he had had more freedom to pursue his own interests than he did now.

It had been a long week and in an attempt to unwind and also appease Doctor McCoy Spock brought his ka'athyra with him to the recreation room. Playing music was a solitary pursuit he could engage in while in the company of others and it also helped him relax; better still it was not yet on the list of restricted activities. Spock did not doubt that when the Doctor learned about this latest pursuit he would be thwarted in this effort too.

The room was 68.3% occupied this evening yet he managed to find a quiet corner where he could warm up and properly tune his harp with minimal distractions. As he pulled the instrument out of his case he heard several appreciative murmurs throughout the room. Apparently he had played in public on numerous occasions, and if one reference was to be believed he had also at times been accompanied by a colleague. He wondered who that crewmember could be.

Many lost interest when he did not immediately start to play and the crowd thinned as he worked. When the instrument was tuned to his satisfaction he began idly plucking the strings, casting about his mental repertoire for a suitable piece to play.

There was a composition he had begun 9.68 weeks prior—no, that was not accurate. Spock suppressed a sigh. He had begun composing the piece 3.978 _years_ prior, in his spare time at the Academy. Last he recalled it was very nearly finished; perhaps he could complete it this evening.

He closed his eyes, positioned his hands along the harp, and plucked out the first few chords. To the casual listener the opening sounded almost like a funeral dirge but it was deceptive; the melancholy simply set the stage for the first act. Still, Spock could not help but be carried away by the emotion pouring forth from his fingers, compulsively adding in layers to the previous piece to express his current sadness, rage and grief.

Faster and louder he played, carried away by the sound until the room was all but forgotten, the notes swirling about and cocooning him until he reached the apex. The mood shifted again, still despairing but yearning too, aching for a light to break through the dark clouds; much like he sought the relief for his own warring emotions as he strove to find a place for himself in this strange new world.

And slowly—ever so slowly—that longing gave way to hope.

The notes buoyed his spirits, feeding Spock an optimism that was neither logical nor by any right his to feel. His joy was contained, as if he were somehow afraid that by playing it with more enthusiasm it might vanish, until at last his composition reached it's own natural conclusion of tempered bliss.

Spock felt strangely at ease as the last echo faded away into the air. A tranquility settled over him that he had only felt briefly before in his life, and the first since his awakening. The turmoil in his mind and in his katra was no more.

It was then that he heard the pneumatic doors shut and realized he had yet to open his eyes; blinking into the bright light Spock turned to find all 47 personnel members staring straight at him, 16 in open-mouthed shock. The close scrutiny sent a trickle of agitation through him and he hurried to pack the ka'athyra and vacate the premises. He had bared his soul in a most public forum and was suitably disgusted with himself for his unrestrained actions.

He hated that he could neither contain nor quantify his feelings—he hated _having_ so many heated feelings—yet Spock could not deny that there was _something_ aside from his own state of duress that compelled him to play so uninhibited. He hustled back to the sanctuary of his quarters before the rest of the room recovered, not wanting to make another untoward display by snapping at an unsuspecting crewmember.

That night the ka'athyra was placed on his list of restricted activities—not by Doctor McCoy but by his own hand.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.64, 1936 hours. **It had been a long week for her but Nyota knew it was only going to get worse. She knew Spock was back on half-duty in the science lab and had heard enough of Len's rumblings on the bridge ("I know he's complyin', Jim, but dammit it's too soon!") to put two and two together. The thought of Spock working beside her everyday had Nyota anxious in a way she hadn't been since boarding her first shuttle bound for the Academy.

Maybe Kirk would let her work Gamma shift for awhile?

No; she was an Uhura, she could handle this. So what that Spock had caught her unawares the last few times she'd seen him about the ship? She wouldn't let her personal feelings get in the way of her career. Besides, the last time she saw him outside the ready room he looked to be back to his old self: centered, intelligent. Calm.

Looked like she'd been right not to tell him about the bond all along.

_Told you so, _a smug voice in the back of her head fairly crowed.

Nyota grabbed her bowl of chocolate pudding and stormed out of the Mess, muttering about 'stupid hormones' into her spoon. Stalking the halls, dessert in hand, she debated which way to go. They'd all tried talking to her—Jim, Len, Christine, Janice—about how she was hiding, but she'd been grieving. But not anymore, not tonight. Now…now she'd show them how strong she was; she could do that, for Spock's sake.

The Rec. Room on 5 forward perfectly fit the bill; catering to officers and junior crewmen alike it tended to be busy without being loud or too overcrowded. It was just the place to be seen and yet still be left alone and with a technical journal under her arm she made her way down the hall.

Then the music hit her the minute she opened the doors. It was like a slap in the face.

Spock was sitting just a few meters away, easy as you please, playing "K'diwa Yel" in front of the _whole crew. _.

"K'diwa Yel" had always been _her _song—he'd told her as much the first time he played it for her—and now here he was, playing with more passion than she'd ever seen him exhibit before. By the time she arrived Spock was well into the third movement. Eyes closed and fingers flying over the strings he was lost in his own little world and hadn't even registered her presence let alone her shock. It was the song he played to let her know how he felt; he'd played it for her before the first night they'd been intimate; he'd played it again shortly after their bonding. And when they lost the baby and all she wanted to do was lie on the couch all day and cry Spock sat by her side and played and played...

Now though, he'd gone and taken something so intensely _personal _and put it on display in front of crewmembers he hardly even knew.

It _hurt_.

The crescendo of the last few bars rose to a fever pitch and Nyota found herself holding her breath. This was not the "K'diwa Yel" she remembered; this was more. Spock had never played with such abandon and he almost looked enraptured as the music arrived at it's end. Watching him play was like getting a glimpse into his soul and seeing him so at peace…it took her breath away.

When the last string was plucked and the final note hung in the air everyone froze. They were all in shock at the moment they'd just witnessed, not fully comprehending exactly _what_ they'd been privy too.

It was too much—just when Nyota thought she'd gotten a handle on the shitty situation she was dealt a new blow. Stepping out of the doorway she marched straight for her quarters. Alone in her room…that was _exactly _where she needed to be right now.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.80, 0845 hours.** McCoy looked at his PADD and groaned. He knew he should've stayed in bed this morning. Spock was coming in for a check-up at 0900 and Nyota was coming in for one of her own at 1030. Len thanked the stars that whichever of his nurses scheduled his appointments today hadn't placed the two of them back-to-back. This whole situation was beyond ridiculous and he was kicking himself daily for giving in…but he never could say no to a pretty woman in her hour of need.

_Leonard, you're gettin' too damn soft._

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.80, 0901 hours. **"Ok, Commander, have a seat." He pulled the stethoscope from a drawer as Spock dutifully took a seat on the edge of the biobed. The Vulcan eyed the antiquated device in his hands but said nothing. Good. Len liked to get a feel for a patient and in a case like this a quick readout from a scanner wasn't going to cut it. By taking Spock's vitals individually he could draw the appointment out and maybe get the elf to open up…because judging by the almost scowl on his green face somethin' was eatin' away at him.

He gingerly lifted up the edge of Spock's shirt and the science officer stared at him in surprise. "Relax, I'm just going to take your heart rate."

"Doctor, I do not…"

"Shhh."

Len placed the diaphragm over Spock's heart and stuck the earbuds in on either side. The staccato rhythm beat out so rapidly he couldn't keep track of it on the chronometer.

"As I attempted to inform you," the man said coolly, "Your stethoscope would not be the most effective instrument in your medical arsenal for recording my heart rate as the Vulcan heart beats at an average of 242 beats per minute."

He rolled his eyes. Of course. However, a simple, "_Stethoscopes won't work on me you idiot,_" would've been faster. "Fine, let's just check your blood pressure then," he said as he reached for the cuff.

Spock cut him off. "I am afraid you will find much the same result with all of your Terran equipment."

_Well damn_. Looked like he was just going to have to get the hobgoblin to open up to him the hard way. He pulled a chair around and sat beside the bed, legs stretched out before him. Len thought he detected a mild look of annoyance on the hobgoblin's face.

"Well then I guess we're just going to have to wait since someone forgot to re-charge the scanners overnight," he lied, locking his hands together behind his head. He looked like he was ready for a day at the beach instead of stuck in sickbay surrounded by ill and injured crew.

The non-scowl on Spock's face deepened. "That is a falsehood, Doctor. In the event of a medical emergency there are battery-operated scanners located in the supply cabinet that can run up to 72.4 hours without fail. If your daily scanners are not in working order at this time then I suggest you utilize one from your reserves."

Len frowned. Spock really was a walking Starfleet manual; he must've been a hit on the recruiting circuit. Still, he wasn't about to let the Vulcan get the better of him. "Like you said, those are for medical emergencies _only_, and since this ain't a medical emergency we're just going to have to sit here and wait." Spock couldn't fault the logic in that. If the Commander were human McCoy would've expected a long-suffering sigh but the man simply sat there stoically.

One minute ticked by, than another and another, and neither said a word. His patient's shoulders twitched infinitesimally but otherwise Spock didn't move.

"Any aches or pains you want talk about?"

"I am in peak physical form and am not suffering from any aches nor any pains at this current time, therefore there is nothing to discuss."

"Anything else you want to talk about?" he countered.

"Negative."

Len harrumphed and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He just had to buy himself some time and crack that tough Vulcan nut…

"Doctor."

He jumped in seat and chanced a glance at the chronometer. Fifteen minutes had passed; he must've dozed off. _Shit_. "Yes?"

"I believe your scanners are sufficiently charged for you to conduct your exam. If the scanners are not available then I respectfully request that we re-schedule this appointment."

"What's the matter, Spock? Got a hot date?"

There was a flash of something in the Commander's eye and the man stiffened in his perch. Oh God, had he actually hit the mark? Was Spock _dating_? Who would allow that to happen? Everyone knew he was married 'cept him so why in Heaven's name would they say yes?

If Spock _was_ dating again then when word finally got 'round to Nyota the news might just kill her.

_Shit._

"I need to return to my shift on the bridge where my time is better spent, unless my presence in the sickbay is required while you sleep."

_Why you little…_

If looks could kill…but if that's how Spock wanted to play things than fine, let him keep his damn emotions all bottled up inside until he throttled someone, see if he cared.

Sometimes being friends with the hobgoblin was more difficult than practicing medicine.

A quick once over with the scanner confirmed Spock's self-diagnosis and he sent him on his way with a nod, giving himself an hour to prepare to deal with Nyota.

* * *

><p>"Anything else you want to talk about?"<p>

Spock considered the offer for .002 seconds. Despite returning to full active duty and prime physical health he found he still had a great host of issues weighing on his mind; however, those matters were best dealt with introspectively.

Although his mother often derived a great deal of satisfaction in discussing her problems with an objective third party…

…however, the Doctor was not an ideal confidant.

"Negative."

Doctor McCoy leaned back in his chair in an obscenely relaxed posture while he remained on the bio bed. Outwardly, Spock knew he was the picture of a model Starfleet officer. He arrived promptly at the beginning of his shift, completed each task as assigned, led his team in a professional and efficient manner…yet he was well aware of the whispers behind his back about how well he was getting on despite his 'disadvantage'.

His shipmates were oblivious to the seething rage these comments brought.

Firstly the word, no matter the context, always set him on edge. Secondly, there was the fact that no one on the ship—not even the Captain, and that was a breech in protocol all it's own—knew of his increasing multitude of emotional slips. He was having difficulty finding his center, more so than before, and spent more time in meditation each evening in order to ensure that he would have sufficient control the following day so that he might be allowed to continue to work. So far his solution was proving most effective; however, Spock was not so naïve as to think his prolonged sleep deprivation would not catch up with him. The fact that Doctor McCoy had not immediately detected his symptoms surprised him but he was not about to point out the physician's oversight.

No, his issues would resolve themselves on their own—eventually.

The Doctor's sonorous breathing alerted him to the fact that the man now holding him hostage in sickbay had in fact fallen asleep. "Doctor."

He derived a great deal of satisfaction watching the CMO spasm in his seat. "Yes?"

The sooner he could get the exam moving along the sooner he could return to the bridge. "I believe your scanners are sufficiently charged for you to conduct your exam. If the scanners are not available then I respectfully request that we re-schedule this appointment." Doctor McCoy's retort was as swift as it was surprising.

"What's the matter, Spock? Got a hot date?"

He was not unfamiliar with the phrase 'hot date'; however, what startled him was the up-swell of negative emotions the terms brought. Vulcans did not date—they were betrothed as children, well before the Time—and though he and T'Pring had not been well-suited for each other he was still disheartened to learn that she was one of the six billion that had perished when his homeworld was destroyed.

Doctor McCoy's words were yet another reminder that, despite the tentative relationships he had begun to forge here on the _Enterprise_, he was well and truly alone.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.80, 1042 hours. **Despite all the advancements in obstetrics in the last 200 years nothing beat a good old-fashioned ultrasound. Requisitioning the private exam room McCoy now had Nyota lying on the bed with her stomach exposed and the equipment in place. "Looking good, Ny," he reassured her as he ran the wand over her abdomen. She flashed him a tight smile, eyes glued to the screen.

There it was in 3-D, the second-ever Vulcan/Human hybrid in the known universe. He was going to have to review the available notes surrounding Spock's mother's pregnancy and labor, make sure to have an obstetrics team assembled and properly drilled, contact the colony on New Vulcan and consult with a healer…

Oh. Oh that was interesting. Surely the little tidbit he just saw on-screen might make her happy?

"Do you want to know the sex?"

Good God, was that him? Why did he sound so stupidly giddy? If anyone else heard him talk like this his reputation would be shot to hell.

"No," she answered flatly.

He considered pressing the issue but the pained look on her face warned him off. McCoy moved the wand over and continued to monitor the baby's development.

"I'm going to start showing soon." She rubbed a hand over her tiny bump as she spoke but there was no cheer in her voice. At nearly four months along she hardly looked pregnant at all but Len's understanding of Vulcan pregnancies showed that the rate of development was slow until around about the fifth month. So far baby Sagin Tiggy…Skin Tigger…oh who was he kidding, Baby Spock was developing normally, if it's father was any kind of precedent. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It is when the baby's father doesn't know he or she is coming."

Len couldn't fault her there. A new life was a hell of a thing to celebrate when an old one was ripped right out from under your feet—just look at Jim.

He considered Nyota carefully as she lay there, brows knit and worrying her lower lip, and debated what to say. He'd tried talking to her before about the whole Spock thing but she was incredibly good at her job and managed to deflect him more often than not. Dealing with pregnant women was always a delicate situation, what with the outbursts and the crying and the misunderstandings. Just thinking about it reminded him of some of the bigger blow-ups he'd had with Jocelyn in the weeks before Joanna's birth. How was it his baby girl had come out all sweetness and smiles when such spleen had come out her mother's mouth?

The hell if he could figure it out; then again, that's probably why they were divorced.

But with Nyota he wasn't about to chalk her melancholy up solely to hormones. One wrong word from him right now might send her screaming for the door and he didn't want to hurt her feelings—either as his patient or his friend.

He motioned for her to pull her shirt down and sit up. "I think you ought to tell him, Ny."

She scowled, reminding him again of the hobgoblin. "Why? What's changed between now and when he first woke up? Nothing."

Len shook his head. "I disagree. He was in here earlier for his check-up and I'm tellin' you somethin's off." Nyota opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off. "And before you say it I think it's more than the amnesia. Whether he knows it or not I think he misses you."

* * *

><p>The fuzzy image on screen cleared and she watched in rapt attention as the ultrasound displayed her son's or daughter's features. The nose was hers, she was certain of it, and she worriedly scanned the screen for signs of her husband. Maybe the baby had his eyes? It was too soon to tell. The ears also had yet to fully develop but when they did she prayed they'd be as pointed as Spock's.<p>

"Do you want to know the sex?"

_Len had released her from sickbay but Spock wouldn't put her down, not until he had her tucked safely in their bed. She didn't know what to feel—she supposed she was still somehow numb to it all. Up until the miscarriage she hadn't even realized she was pregnant._

_She lay there for G-d-only-knows how long and the only time he left her side was to retrieve a glass of water and place it for her on the nightstand. Finally, after an eternity of heavy silence, she asked the question she'd been holding onto since Len first told her what was causing her to bleed._

_"Did you know I was pregnant?"_

_He looked down at her and the way his eyes caught hers suddenly made her feel so small, just a tiny speck nestled among the sheets; and for the first time in a long time Spock closed himself off to her so she couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I did not." He clamped his mouth shut tight and inhaled deeply. When he next looked down at her again all she saw was disappointment. _

_"I did not know that what I detected in you was a life spark. As we were not actively attempting to conceive, nor were we aware that natural conception was a viable possibility, I had no knowledge that the event had occurred. I was only aware of the presence once, 3.47 hours before you fell ill, and the sensation was fleeting. Having had no prior experience…"_

_"What was it?" she cut him off, a swell of anger stirring within her._

_"Clarify." _

_The demand, the cold monotone…in spite of herself she picked up the glass of water he left on the nightstand and hurled it across the room. "What was our baby? Was it a boy? Was it a girl? Tell me!" His lips remained set in that irritatingly tight thin line and all she wanted to do was smack it off his face. "ANSWER ME!"_

_If she weren't staring at him so hard she might have missed the quiver of his chin. It suddenly occurred to her that the disappointment she thought was directed at her wasn't; Spock thought he was to blame for their loss. _

_"I believe we were about to have…a son."_

_It was the personalization—not just referring to it as fetus or baby or it—that broke the dam. Nyota had never been much for tears but that night she cried like she'd never cried before. Spock held her and stayed by her side all those long dark hours and she knew then that she was truly blessed to be loved by him._

_And when she felt a warm tear or two not her own stain her face she said nothing of it and only held onto him tighter._

"No."

She didn't bat an eye even as she felt McCoy's calculating look on her turned cheek. Giving the baby a gender would only remind her of what she'd lost and make this pregnancy all the more real; besides, she wanted to share that moment with Spock, to have _him_ caress her stomach, feel the life spark of their new child and tell her what they were expecting, not Len.

Nyota looked down at her gel-covered belly and the slight swelling there. Soon she wouldn't have to worry about keeping the news from anyone, the entire ship would be able to see for themselves. "I'm going to start showing soon."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he remarked, eyes focused on the screen.

"It is when the baby's father doesn't know he or she is coming."

As she stared at the image all she could think of was Spock sitting two floors up at his workstation, oblivious to her and her condition. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes and she brushed them away before Len could see.

"I think you ought to tell him, Ny."

His reputation for his surly bedside manner was duly earned. "Why?" she spit back. "What's changed between now and when he first woke up? Nothing."

"I disagree. He was in here earlier for his check-up and I'm tellin' you somethin's off." She was about to remind him that practically four whole years of his life were stolen when he cut her off. "And before you say it I think it's more than the amnesia. Whether he knows it or not I think he misses you."

_Would that were true_, Nyota thought as she covered her face with her hand. Damn him for preying on the hormones of a single pregnant woman. Why was Len pushing her like this? Why now? Couldn't he of all people see she could only take so much before she broke? "It isn't."

She turned away from him but couldn't help but feel his disapproval piercing her formerly thick skin. "Alright," he said softly. He stepped out of the room so she could dress and she was grateful he finally let the subject drop.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hi all! Two things, really quickly. One, I made some edits to this story based on some reviews I've gotten—just thought you might like to know that I do read them (and appreciate them!) and take the things you say into consideration. Two, I've got a VERY big day on Monday (lots of important personal things going on—EEP!) so if you could send a review my way or think a kind thought about me I'd be very grateful to you.

Thank you all in advance and enjoy the rest of your weekend!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thank you all for your warm thoughts! Monday was a complete success and in honor of that I am posting Chapter 7. The next chapter might be a little longer in coming so I made sure this one was a good length to tide you over. Also, I'm sorry I haven't been able to reply to all the reviews personally but I take all the compliments AND the criticism to heart and appreciate you taking the time to leave your thoughts. Whether you love it or hate it you're still reading 'Broken Orbit' and that makes me very happy!

Also, there is a _bit _more swearing in this chapter than in previous ones so consider yourselves warned.

Now go and enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.84, 1306 hours. **Dianara picked at her food as she waited for her friends to get through the line. It'd been a long morning in in the engine rooms and by the look of the repairs Mr. Scott wanted to make today the afternoon would be even longer; simply thinking about it made her groan into her rice bowl.

The things they didn't tell you in the recruitment videos…

She might have to finally crack open that bottle of wine her parents sent with their last care package.

The loud scrape of a chair caught her attention and as she looked up Dia saw Commander Spock take a seat beside Lt. Uhura. Immediately she went on red alert, as did almost everyone else in the room. She didn't know any of the particulars of the case, only that he'd been injured on a recent away mission and didn't remember who his wife was, and that there was a blanket gag order not to tell him. She thought it was a pretty ridiculous command all things considered but it _was_ a personal matter and since Dia wasn't either of their direct subordinates she simply obeyed and left things alone.

Still, that didn't stop her from entering the pool going around about the couple. Her money was on Spock either recovering his memory or figuring the situation out within two months of waking up. Based on the other odds it was a long shot but she always was a romantic.

"So I was thinking…"

"SHHH!"

She grabbed Michael's sleeve and yanked him down to his seat, upsetting his soup. "Hey, what'd you think you're…" Dia jerked her head toward the couple and he instantly shut up, just as transfixed as she was. They both stared at the back of the Commander's head, their food forgotten.

If only her ears still weren't ringing she might've heard a bit about what was said; still, she could at least read their body language. Commander Spock didn't give off much but the Lieutenant was very frosty which was strange, knowing her reputation and the situation she was in now. Obviously she was upset and aside from one quick little outburst the encounter was rather dull.

A blue hand waved in front of her face. "You guys, have you heard anything I've said?"

This time Michael joined her. "SHHH!"

"What?" Jalessa followed their gaze across the room. "Oh!" She took her seat without any invitation. "This is better than the entertainment vids!" she squealed giddily as she popped a tater tot in her mouth.

Several more minutes passed and neither of them dared move. Not until the Lieutenant and then the Commander left the Mess did Dianara even consider breathing again.

"Well that was disappointing," Jalessa remarked. "I thought there might be yelling or kissing or _something_."

Dia rolled her eyes. "He's Vulcan," Michael replied, "They don't do that sort of thing…at least not in public anyway."

"Ok, so then what's stopping her?"

The friends looked at each other. She had a point. Whatever Lieutenant Uhura's reasons were they must be good. "Who knows?" she replied with a shrug, turning back to her now cold lunch. "But whatever happens, Ry'el better not win the pool. He'll get thrown out the airlock if he does." It was no secret he had a thing for the Chief Comm Officer but he was the only crewmember betting _against _the couple, and that was a new low even for him.

"No kidding."

"That guy's a jerk."

"Agreed."

The trio finished their meal without any further excitement.

* * *

><p>Spock had been granted active work status 12.57 days ago and was simultaneously acclimating himself to his on-going duties on both the bridge and the science lab. During that time he had managed to speak with every crewmember under his purview and had discovered an unusual trend.<p>

Lieutenant Uhura was avoiding him.

He knew this for a fact because he had had more interaction with Ensign Poole than he had had with his former TA—and being the gamma shift navigator the overlap in his and Ensign Poole's respective shifts only accounted for 1.3% of Spock's time. In contrast, he spent 84.7% of his time working side-by-side with the Lieutenant and had yet to say more than nineteen words to her.

This fact did not bother him during the day—but in the evenings and in the privacy of his quarters Spock found his thoughts turning toward his former student more and more. His preoccupation with the Lieutenant was not only personally alarming but endangering to his health. He could not concentrate and if he could not concentrate than he could not effectively meditate. Without proper meditation he could not sleep for any meaningful period of time nor could he expect to have as strict control over his emotions as was expected of him. At the rate he was going Spock conceded his agitated state would become readily apparent in another 4.8 days' time…and he did not wish to draw Doctor McCoy's attention to his person again so shortly after slipping out of his clutches.

Still, no matter the consequences, his thoughts never seemed to stray long or far from Lieutenant Uhura.

He found it difficult to reconcile the memory of the woman he knew at the Academy with the one he now saw daily. Throughout their prior acquaintanceship she had been the epitome of a high-spirited extrovert; now, however, she could only be described as sullen and withdrawn.

Spock wondered if it was the Battle for Vulcan that changed her. 78.47% of the graduating class had perished in the fight, and it was the type of devastating loss that lingered long after the event itself was past.

He would know; he still felt his own losses from that day acutely.

Rounding the corner of the lunch line found the object of his nightly inquiries sitting by herself, her mind wholly engrossed in her PADD. It was…_unnatural_ to see her alone and without preamble he strode over and set his tray down, hoping to have a conversation with her and resolve what was (for him at any rate) a most troubling matter.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant."

She looked up and gave him a curt nod. "Commander." She appraised him with a detached look; the sensation left him feeling as though he had been weighed and measured and found wanting. The Lieutenant returned to her PADD, neither accepting nor rejecting his tacit request, so he sat down to eat. As he picked at his salad he caught a glimpse of her work and saw a scrolling list of foreign vocabulary. "You are reviewing your Renaran?"

"Yes."

Inwardly Spock smiled, pleased to see that she was just as thorough in her duties now as she had been at the Academy. That much, at least, had not changed. Still, her current attitude grieved him on a much deeper level.

In spite of her prolonged silence Spock found himself becoming more centered the longer he remained in her presence. He remembered reading about this phenomenon in both pre- and post-Surakian literature. Lieutenant Uhura was literally a balm for his troubled katra, most likely a result of his pleasant recollections of their former association. Whatever the case he welcomed the respite her physical proximity brought, even if their personal issues went unresolved.

Unable to force another bite down his throat he set his fork aside. "May I ask a personal query?"

Her sigh was barely audible and the look of—Annoyance? Displeasure? He could not be certain though it left him slightly flustered—quickly left her face. She folded her hands and, every inch a true professional, gave him her full attention. "Of course."

Spock took a deep breath. "It has been 54 days since I awoke in Sickbay with no recollection of the last 3.71 years of my life. In the intervening time you have conversed directly with me on only six occasions and I have observed that when given the opportunity you either avoid interacting with me and/or flee from my presence. I am endeavoring to discover why that is."

Lieutenant Uhura's carefully schooled features went slack and she opened and shut her mouth repeatedly as she searched for an answer. "Commander, I…that's just not true."

There had been a time not so very long ago when she had never lied to him. She valued the truth. When they conversed it was not as a student would speak to a teacher, but as a well-respected equal would communicate with another. She told him stories of her various interests, kept him abreast on the status of her studies, described what it was like for her growing up in Africa and told him how her family were faring back home. In turn he revealed a great deal more about his life to her—his upbringing, his family—than to any of his other colleagues; and despite how closely he guarded his privacy he found the exchanges with her to be rather refreshing. Before when there was silence it was only the comfortable pauses found between friends.

Now, things were quite different.

"The data I have compiled on the subject would prove your previous statement to be untrue."

He eyed the small pout that formed on her lips as she carefully chose her next words. "Why would I be avoiding you?"

"That is precisely the information which I seek to uncover. At the Academy we spent an average of 5.1 hours daily working in close proximity and conversing…" Spock went on to quote her the statistics without a second thought. Gathering data from their daily interactions, analyzing it, extrapolating the results, all of that was simple; it was second nature to him, just like breathing. What was not so easy was determining what it meant to him personally and what, if anything, the Lieutenant was gleaning from his presentation. At times her facial expression denoted boredom; at others he almost believed she was in physical pain. Sometimes he was not even sure she was listening to the testimony he was giving.

"Furthermore, at 1432 yesterday…"

"Enough!" The Lieutenant's sharp command instantly silenced him and drew more than a few startled glances from their colleagues at neighboring tables. With a sigh she lowered her head a fraction of a degree and collected herself, speaking apologetically as she looked him directly in the eye. "Commander, I am not avoiding you. There is nothing _to_ avoid. We work on the bridge together, yes, but we have different focuses. Rarely does the communication department have a need to interact with the science department but when they do I will consult you. And if you are suggesting that I am shunning you socially then…" Her hands were gesticulating wildly now and Spock's eye caught the glint of gold reflecting off her left ring finger.

For the first time in his life he spoke without thinking.

"You are bond—…married?"

Humans wed. Vulcans bond. It was a distinction he would do well to remember.

Lieutenant Uhura immediately stopped moving and clamped her mouth shut as the color drained out of her face. Conversely Spock felt his own blood cool by approximately 6.3 degrees and his previous calm be replaced by a sense of dread that he could not adequately name nor fully comprehend. He had not known she was married; that information had not been listed in any of the _Enterprise _logs. Looking her over again he saw her hands clasped tightly in her lap, the right one covering the left in a vain attempt to hide the ring.

"Yes," she meekly replied, "I am."

_"It's a symbol, Spock." He was 3.14 years old and had made repeated inquiries about the plain gold band she wore daily on her left hand._

_"Clarify."_

_She sighed and shifted him on her lap so she could hold her hand out before him. "The ring was given to me by your father after our bonding. It's a token of his love and fidelity." _

_"I have not seen other women wear such jewelry despite the fact that they are bonded."_

_"That's because it's a Terran custom, Sweetie. A ring on the fourth finger of the left hand usually means that a person is married. It's very common where I'm from." She looked down at the ring and smiled brightly. "Your father indulged me."_

At the time Spock had been struck by the 'otherness' of his mother's tradition—Vulcan bonding was all he knew—but now he was grateful for the lesson, otherwise he would never have known what it was he was looking at.

All lapses aside Spock was certain there was not one mention of her marriage in any of the data he had come across; indeed, there not so much as a hint suggesting that she was involved in a relationship at all. She was full young to be married even by her own species' standards, though the practice was not wholly unheard of. Whomever she chose to commit herself to must be worthy as she, much like himself, would not enter into such a relationship lightly.

Still, he felt a certain amount of disbelief discovering that his former student had, in the intervening years, wed. Lieutenant Uhura's marriage was yet another reminder of a significant moment he had missed and he mourned it.

However, he was the son of a diplomat and an officer, and certain social niceties had to be observed. "It is customary to offer congratulations, however belated they may be," he said, picking up his fork and resuming his lunch as if his gut would allow the food to be consumed. Slowly he chewed and forced first one bite down, then another. He longed to leave but would not be seen fleeing like a coward. This encounter was now proving almost physically painful for him. Where once the Lieutenant had been a balm she was now 'salt on an open wound'—and yet Spock could not break away.

In a move that rivaled his own natural speed the Lieutenant turned, grabbed her PADD and stood over him. "Thank you," she said, sweeping an errant hair off her high cheekbone. "I…I must report back to the bridge now. Have a good afternoon, Commander."

"Lieutenant," he replied with a nod.

She turned and left the Mess without once looking back and he followed her progress until she cleared the room. His tea cooled and his food remained untouched as Spock considered all that he had just learnt in that too brief interaction. 2.89 minutes later he deposited his half-eaten meal in the recycle chute and left to return to his quarters for further meditation on the matter.

It would be another 6.16 minutes before he realized their entire conversation had been conducted in his native Vulkhansu.

* * *

><p><em>"Mr. Chekov, your information is incorrect. The phrase 'Hell hath no fury like a Klingon scorned' did not originate in Russia."<em>

_"Captain, before you join the landing party I must insist that you reconsider. Starfleet Regulation 159, Paragraph 3, Section C clearly states that the Captain must remain aboard his or her starship if the likelihood of danger is…"_

_"Doctor, hovering over my shoulder is not conducive to my work. If you are in need of stimulating social interaction I suggest you seek out the Captain or perhaps Lt. Sulu."_

If she closed her eyes tight and just _listened_ she could almost forget that her husband was not himself. Even Kirk seemed to forget that fact and treat Spock like Spock instead of Spock, the Vulcan scientist and First Officer he had reverted back to after Anguillida. It was only when she listened more closely to his tone that she noticed it lacked the faint teasing or concern or hint of annoyance that she used to detect.

Living that way—so close and yet so far away from him—made every moment on the bridge pure agony. And every time he spoke to her…

_"Lieutenant, have you corrected the transmission for the subspace anomaly on frequency four?"_

_"Would you please review this translation, Lieutenant?"_

_"Excuse me, Lieutenant."_

Her rank had always been a pet name that he could use anytime, anywhere, without drawing undo attention to their relationship. Other people might hear nothing but a directive but she'd hear his longing for her in every syllable. Now though…

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant."

Lost in her recollections Nyota almost allowed herself a small smile before remembering who was speaking. Keeping her cool she adopted a neutral expression and kept her eyes on her PADD. "Commander."

Anyone else would have picked up on her unspoken desire to be left alone, but not him. Spock's heat flooded her side as he took a seat without invitation. Pushing the food around on his plate he glanced sideways at her PADD. "You are reviewing your Renaran?"

"Yes."

A thoughtful nod and then he returned to his meal. Her shoulders thrown back and head held high Nyota wondered how long she'd have to sit there before she could make an unobtrusive exit. His nearness was becoming more than she could bear.

"May I ask a personal query?"

She closed her eyes a fraction of a second too long and held her breath. _No, please, anything but that…_ "Of course."

"It has been 54 days since I awoke in Sickbay with no recollection of the last 3.71 years of my life. In the intervening time you have conversed directly with me on only six separate occasions and I have observed that when given the opportunity you either avoid interacting with me and/or flee from my presence. I am endeavoring to discover why that is."

His noticing her distance—and openly remarking upon it—threw off her equilibrium. What was she to say? 'I'm sorry, Commander, but we're married and expecting a baby and you don't know me from Ensign Poole' wasn't a sufficient answer.

So she did what anyone in her position would do. She lied.

"Commander, I…that's just not true."

"The data I have compiled on the subject would prove your previous statement to be untrue."

Since when had Spock gotten so good at calling someone out? It was so unlike him it made Nyota wonder what else had changed. Practically praying for an alert and against her better judgment she asked, "Why would I be avoiding you?"

"That is precisely the information which I seek to uncover. At the Academy we spent an average of 5.1 hours daily working in close proximity and conversing…"

He droned on and she tuned out. The last time he delved into a statistical lecture this long had been shortly after the miscarriage. Back then Spock talked of the improbabilities of their conceiving naturally, of her being able to carry a Vulcan-human hybrid to term, of the likelihood of copper poisoning or premature birth or future miscarriages. In hindsight Nyota realized he spoke about their loss that way because the data was something he could wrap his head around, whereas the tragedy was too incomprehensible and emotional for him to verbalize. She knew better now but at the time she'd screamed 'til she was hoarse, hurling expletives right back at his statistics and shocking them both.

It was one of the few times she'd ever raised her voice in his presence.

"Furthermore, at 1432 yesterday…"

"Enough!"

Spock stopped speaking and looked as cool as ever, but knowing him like she did she could see he was rattled by her outburst.

She couldn't tell him the truth, not yet. He wasn't ready. "Commander, I am not avoiding you. There is nothing _to_ avoid. We work on the bridge together, yes, but we have different focuses. Rarely does the communication department have a need to interact with the science department but when they do I will consult you. And if you are suggesting that I am shunning you socially then…"

Nyota watched him tense further and stopped, following his eyes to where they came to rest on her left hand—more specifically, on her wedding ring. In all her attempts to try and shield him from this part of their lives it never occurred to her to take off his ring. Quickly bunching her hands in her lap she hoped he wouldn't notice the similarities in design between her wedding band and the one his mother had worn; he'd had her ring specially commissioned since the original had been lost with Lady Amanda.

"You are bond—…married?"

Her head jerked up. Was that a slip of the tongue or did he know? Vulcans didn't slip. Perhaps he suspected? "Yes, I am."

Nyota held her breath as the seconds ticked by and she watched his brain kick into overdrive. She would've killed to know what he was thinking—or at least be able to reach out and take his hand and forge a connection and find out secondhand. Instead she had to content herself with waiting.

Spock completely surprised her by picking up his fork and resuming his meal.

"It is customary to offer congratulations, however belated they may be."

Her heart sank; whatever it was she thought she'd seen in his eyes and heard in his voice a moment ago was a lie. He didn't remember. Suddenly the room was stifling and she hurried to her feet.

"Thank you. I…" her breath hitched and she struggled to get the words out. If she didn't leave soon… "I must report back to the bridge now. Have a good afternoon, Commander."

"Lieutenant."

She could feel his eyes follow her even after she left the room but her disappointment lasted longer still, keeping her company like a shadow throughout the rest of her shift and long into the night.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Crecial High Hall, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.91, 2630 hours (local time).** "No, Ambassador," he said, swooping low in a graceful bow. "It is _we_ who are humbled by _your _presence."

Uhura was going to hate the fact that he actually paid attention to her cultural sensitivity lecture and didn't end up making an ass out of himself. Jim bit back a chuckle just thinking about the look on her face when she found out.

Representative Vima muttered his thanks again and shoved off, finally giving him a chance to look over the assembly and the fragile peace he and his team helped broker. Five days of tense negotiations had left him wondering whether they could even _get_ a ceasefire on Plor let alone a lasting one, but now they'd not only done just that but also got both sides to agree to equal shares to the mining rights on the moon too.

There went another notch on his belt for Team _Enterprise_. His people were good—really, really good.

Only the best for his ship.

Smiling, Jim made a move toward the human-approved section of the banquet table for a well-deserved treat. He'd seen a red pudding-like dish earlier that smelled like double chocolate brownies; better still, Bones was on ship and whatever he didn't know about his diet wouldn't (likely) kill him.

"Captain."

Kirk's heart hammered in his chest as he struggled not to jump. G-ddamit but the man really was part cat. Their first few months together Spock used to sneak up on him all the time but in the last two years he'd gotten better about announcing his presence to his 'aurally inferior' peers.

Guess they were back to square one here too.

Casually picking up a napkin and plate Jim began doling out some goodies. "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

The Commander trailed a half-step behind him, hands clasped behind his back, as they made their way down the line. "Now that the negotiations between the Renarans and the Crecials have concluded there is another matter I would like to discuss with you."

His hand paused on the spoon and he looked up to Spock. "Fire away." He turned to find the Commander staring at him, one eyebrow raised high. "It means go ahead, Mr. Spock."

The man continued staring at him skeptically before proceeding. "Captain, it has been brought to my attention that Lieutenant Uhura is married; however, in the course of subsequent research the identity of her partner remains shrouded in mystery. Perhaps you could enlighten me as to who the person is, why he or she is not present, and why there is no record of him or her in the database onboard the ship."

Whatever he expected to come out of Spock's mouth it sure as hell wasn't that. Just how had he figured out that Nyota was married? Did she know that Spock knew, and even if she did or didn't how in the world was he supposed to answer that question? Sure he had the authority but did he really have the balls to go over his Comm. Officer's head and her specific request that Spock not be told?

Not really, no…but Jim didn't want her knowing that. She had enough sway over him as it was.

"Have you asked the Lieutenant about any of this?"

Spock quirked his head. "I have not. At the time of the disclosure of her marriage she appeared—_uncomfortable _with my discovery; however, I find the secrecy surrounding the identity of this individual to be intriguing."

Jim resisted a smirk. _Give the Vulcan a puzzle and he'll need a place to piece it together; give him a place to assemble it and he'll ask you a million and one questions before he's through_. He couldn't help but notice the almost-emphasis Spock placed on 'intriguing'; it gave Jim a split second of hope that maybe he would finally remember _something_ of his life before Anguillida.

Daring to look over his shoulder Kirk saw the Lieutenant in a semi-circle with two junior Renaran delegates and the tall, white-haired Crecial man whose name he couldn't pronounce. She was _just _starting to show and while she hadn't made an official announcement yet the crew had begun to whisper. Judging by the way What's-his-name was hovering he seemed to know too; must've been something he'd seen in her aura—that was what Uhura said, right? That Crecials could see auras? He was too busy trying to remember who to bow to and when to recall that specific little tid-bit.

Either way, the man was standing too close for Jim's liking.

He'd bet his last credit that if Spock were in his right mind he'd be over there in a heartbeat in that same protective stance. Maybe that's what prompted him to ask Jim about her in the first place; even if he didn't know why he still felt that same urge to protect Uhura the way the Crecial man had. Either way it put him in a bit of a tight spot.

"I think you need to talk to her about this."

The air between them shifted and if it were possible Jim felt his friend tense up even more. "I am not asking the Lieutenant, Captain. I am asking you."

This was one of their most successful and peaceful missions in—well in a fucking long time—and yet he almost wished for a bomb to go off just to give him a much-needed diversion. He'd given Uhura his word he'd back her up and besides, he _really_ didn't want to be the one to tell Spock that he was the 'mystery spouse', especially not here. Just imagining that conversation was enough to give him a migraine.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jim spotted a bowl of fruit. Casually strolling over he grabbed three up and tossed them in the air with well-practiced hands. His antics caught the eye of several celebrants and they all murmured to themselves appreciatively. Good, he had an audience, which was just what he wanted. Spock couldn't make a scene now.

"Captain…"

"Did you know," Jim said, cutting him off, "That peaches are my second favorite fruit? They're so hard to find this far out in space, especially such ripe ones…" He stopped and bit down on the fruit in his hand, eyes closed as he savored the sweet bite…

…that melted in his mouth all too fast.

_That's not good._

"Captain."

Jim's eyes burst open and he looked down to see the gooey, lime green center as his body simultaneously started rejecting the unknown, peach-like, foodstuff. _Aww hell_, he thought as his chest started to constrict, _Bones is gonna kill me_.

A quick look at Spock as he pulled out his comm. showed that the man had all but abandoned his earlier line of inquiry, making Jim smirk.

_But at least I got my distraction._

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.91, 2030 hours. **The machinery stopped and Leonard looked up and across the room. They'd been trying a new method of synthesizing neurotransmitter production for the last several days and this test looked promising.

_At least more promising than the last thirty-seven_. Everything they'd tried over the last two months had failed. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had to fashion a cure for Lt. Marks—delving into the mysteries of the human brain was a pretty tall order—but then he had to find a Vulcan/human one too?

The wonders of medical science that made Spock possible also made him a son-of-a-bitch to treat. McCoy cursed his predecessors.

Still, rather uncharacteristically, he had hope.

Chapel had her head bent over a microscope and he didn't bother to give her anything more than a cursory look at the results. It either worked or it didn't, simple as that. "Well? What's the verdict?"

"It…" she turned around, her soft blue eyes downcast, "It's negative, Doctor. There's no change."

"Dam—"

"Doctor!" M'Benga shouted from sickbay. Setting his disappointment aside Len raced over to find Spock half-dragging, half-carrying Kirk who had one swollen arm draped around the Vulcan's shoulders. The kid was so bloated he was almost twice his normal size and the ugly purple bruises that mottled his face made him look like he'd gone twelve rounds with a Klingon.

"What in the hell happened?" he cried, giving Jim a pointed look as he ran his tricorder over him. "I thought you said this was peaceful?l!"

M'Benga ushered them over to a biobed and Spock gingerly set the captain down. The doctors tried to get his shirt off but Jim was so puffy Geoff had to cut the material instead.

"Ib blash pifful."

Numb tongue. Great. This was Mulvaran mud fleas all over again.

At least they weren't rocketing off to—no, best not to think of that.

Giving his friend the once over Len noted that while he was struggling a little bit Jim was still breathing on his own and that was encouraging; one less complication to worry about and all that.

The universe really did just love to shit on his friend's immune system.

"What?"

"Ib…"

"The captain stated that the mediations between the Crecials and Renarans was, and still is, peaceful. He is currently having a negative reaction to a food item he consumed on the planet."

_WHAT?_ After all the lectures and all the near-misses he had to go and do a g-ddamn foolish thing like that… "Dammit, Jim! How many times have I told you to scan your food? You're allergic to every g-ddamn microbe in all of g-ddamn space, so what in the hell made you think you'd be immune to this _one_ thing this time?"

Jim continued to babble as he and Geoff urged him to lay back and Len held the hypo in hand, waiting for him to finish before depressing it into the bloated skin that used to be his neck. As he concluded his speech Jim's eyes sought out Spock's who was now standing a short distance away at parade rest. Apparently the Vulcan understood every word of his gibberish.

"I do not 'bitch', Captain; I was merely lecturing you on the same virtues Doctor McCoy has just expounded over the necessary precautions you must take to safeguard your health from alien food products. It was unwise of you to ingest the tritana without scanning it first, especially since it was not located on the same table as the other Terran-approved meal items."

His eyebrow raise nearly rivaled the Commander's. "He did WHAT now?" Did the kid have a death wish? Depressing the hypo with more force than necessary the kid made one last statement before the sedative kicked in. Curiosity getting the better of him he turned to Spock. "What was that last bit he said there?"

"The Captain said, and I quote, 'It was a peach, Bones'."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.91, 2349 hours. **McCoy stepped out of his office to find his lone patient still blissfully unconscious—and with an unusual visitor keeping vigil at his bedside.

"Mr. Spock?" The Vulcan turned his head but did not rise. "Have you been here this whole time?"

The Commander nodded once, answering in that minute gesture alone and nothing more, before turning back to Jim. Come to think of it he never did see him leave but once the kid's throat started really closin' up he didn't have time to register who or what was where, just focused on keeping Kirk alive.

He dragged a stool over to the other side of the bed and had a seat. How many nights had they spent just like this, one unconscious and the other two worried sick? And usually it was Kirk giving them all heart attacks. Len scowled just thinking about how much knowing Jim had aged him.

Looking him over he noted that the kid's color at least appeared to be returning to normal. He didn't look as bloated as before either, though that'd take a few days to fully subside. Knowing how vain Kirk was he'd bitch about the water weight for the next two weeks.

"How come you're still here?" he finally asked his silent companion.

It was a question Jim would've asked too if he were awake. These last few weeks with Spock around and yet not had been hard on Jim—harder than he'd care to admit, especially when they both knew Uhura was worse off; and while Len appreciated the lack of Vulcan bickering deep down he missed his friend too. Maybe it was because they both feared that however dysfunctionally-functional their previous relationship had been it might not return even with time.

After a careful moment's consideration Spock replied, "I am here because the Captain is here."

Oh.

Perhaps their fears were unfounded after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thank you to all who have reviewed! I'm sorry it took so long to update but I've been having computer issues (and yes, it sucks).

Now keep in mind that there are _allusions_ to adult situations in this chapter-nothing hard or over and I think it's within the T rating but I wanted to let people know all the same; so read at your own risk and consider yourselves warned!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.95, 0024 hours. **He was terrified—absolutely, without a doubt, utterly terrified—a sensation that was as new to him and as it was unwelcome. Spock knew he was able and willing to assist but his aid was not needed.

No, that was incorrect. His aid was not _wanted_.

But as much as that knowledge stirred up the old hurts what Spock wanted more than anything else was to take the Lieutenant's pain away.

* * *

><p><em>"Look, all it means is that we've found 38 ways how not to jumpstart his neurotransmitters. This doesn't mean we're giving up, Ny; none of us are. All it means is that attempt 39 is bound to work. You'll see."<em>

And with that disheartening news the Doctor went back to his lab. It was all well and good for Len to stay optimistic; he didn't have to work side-by-side with Spock _or_ carry his child…and while she knew it wasn't healthy the only outlet Nyota had was to go back and throw herself into her work.

In addition to shifts on the bridge and the work in her lab she also invested more time in her other ship-board pursuits. There was the weekly knitting club, rehearsals with the ship's choir, weeding in the botany lab, reading for the monthly book club, a random game of checkers or boggle in the various Recs… These were activities she always enjoyed, especially when she needed to unwind after a crazy day or if Spock was working late on one of his experiments, but now they were her only refuge. If she had any spare time then she'd start thinking about him—about the way they were now and the way they were then—and G-d only knows what her raging hormones would make her do after that.

Soon, however, she wouldn't be able to ignore their relationship anymore, or her condition. Her stomach was growing daily and it was only a matter of time before she'd need a maternity uniform. She may have put up a good front but Nyota wasn't sure she could raise their baby on her own.

Despite all that weighing on her mind tonight had been a good night; she was thoroughly exhausted from choir rehearsal and the gossip afterward and once she put away the last of the folding chairs she could head straight to bed and pass out 'til Alpha shift. She'd successfully survived another day and lately that was all she dared to hope for.

Scooping up the music books Nyota started singing one of the pieces they'd been practicing just to break up the stillness. "I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places, that this heart of mine embraces…ACH!" Her gut exploded and the books scattered on the ground as she doubled over, desperately clutching the wall to keep herself from falling. The pain was worse than anything she'd ever felt in her life and left her trembling so hard her knees were knocking.

_What WAS that? _was all she had time to think before another blow, this time from high up near her rib cage, was dealt. Nyota bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted blood. Either her body was spontaneously combusting from the inside or she was having another miscarriage…

_NO!_

Was she really losing their baby? At this stage in the pregnancy it was uncommon but not completely unheard of. Nyota sucked in a breath as the stars swum in her eyes. As much as she'd tried to ignore everything over the last few weeks this child was her last little piece of Spock…

She started to whimper and hobbled along toward the turbolift, desperate to reach sickbay.

* * *

><p>His midnight walks had become part of his routine as much as the extended meditation. Spock also found that his nightly strolls made him feel more connected to the ship—not the crew, per say, though that no longer bothered him as much as it once did. There were people aboard the <em>Enterprise<em> whose company he found tolerable and whom he preferred more than others. The Chief Engineer was one. Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Sulu as well. The Captain he was generally ambivalent towards, though he found the man intriguing—a puzzle, if you will.

The Doctor he decidedly did not like.

Lieutenant Uhura…well, his relationship with her was rather ambiguous at the moment. Perhaps now that their diplomatic mission was concluded he might have a better chance of defining their interpersonal interactions than he had had time to previously.

Yes, that would be satisfactory.

From far down the hall he heard the faint sound of singing and realized it was the Lieutenant. It was unusual for anyone to still be up at this hour, especially in this part of the ship; normally this area was all but abandoned in the evening which was why he preferred walking here in the first place. However, knowing her as he did she must have her reasons for remaining on this deck; she never did anything without a purpose. Spock wondered if she would appreciate his company.

"…that this heart of mine embraces—ACH!"

He dashed forward at the sound of her distress and found her clutching the wall with a trail of music books strewn out behind her.

"Lieutenant." She looked up at him with large, frightened, brown eyes full of unshed tears and he swallowed down the panic that billowed up within him. "Allow me to assist you."

"No, it's alright." Pulling herself more upright she forced a smile on her wan face. "I'm fine, see?"

Scanning her closely he watched how her legs trembled with the effort. "Fine has variable definitions, none of which apply to you and your current circumstances. It is only logical you allow me to assist you." Spock stepped forward to help support her and she stumbled back.

"No."

"No?" Why was she refusing his offer of aid? Had he not just said that such a refusal was illogical?

Her glance darted from his outstretched hands to his face and back again. "Please don't touch…AHHH!" She crumpled again, her knees hitting the floor hard, and the suddenness and severity of her pain made his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

It was clear that Lieutenant Uhura was in need of immediate medical attention. She would be wise to allow him to carry her to sickbay, but he could not violate her personal space when she had so expressly forbidden it—though he was not above arguing with her to make her see reason. She was on her hands and knees now, her hair dark hair plastered to her forehead and her breathing labored.

"Lieutenant, you must desist in this beha—…"

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!" The force of her shout sent him stepping back several paces as if she had physically assaulted him. Inwardly it felt as if she had. "McCoy," she panted. "Call McCoy."

Spock flipped open his communicator, his eyes never leaving her drawn face.

* * *

><p>"ARGH!"<p>

Len tumbled to the floor, sheets wrapped around his legs, the emergency page rousing him out of a rare, sound sleep. All he could think of as he grappled for the device was that someone better be dying or else they soon would be…

"Yeah?" he muttered groggily.

"Doctor McCoy." _Oh great, the hobgoblin. Just what I need, a midnight house call with the elf… _

"Go ahead, Commander."

"I am on Deck 16, approximately 3.4 meters from Recreation Room 10 with Lieutenant Uhura. She requires immediate medical aid."

_Damn._ That got him up on his feet in a hurry and he cast about looking for a shirt to throw over his head. "Can you get her to sickbay?"

"Negative. She is refusing my assistance."

"Damn stubborn, foolish woman. Alright, I'm on my way." Clicking over to the emergency channel he paged the night staff to warn them then switched over to the transporter room.

"Aye, Scott here."

_Oh hell, _McCoy thought as he smacked his forehead. First he couldn't find his shoes and now this. If Scotty had those damn scramblers off-line for some new-fangled upgrade than he was going to kick his ass into the middle of next week, do no harm or not. "Emergency Medical Transport, Mr. Scott. Deck 16, as close as you can get us to Rec Room 10."

He heard a loud thud and a hiss as the engineer scurried about. "I'm gettin' a read on ye. 3…2…1…"

The dark confines of his room ghosted away and were replaced by the over-bright lights of Deck 16. Len paused only a moment as his stomach struggled to catch up before seeing Nyota on all fours on the ground. Racing to her side he dropped to his knees in front of her with Nurses Hoichi and Gerard right behind him with the backboard and medkits.

* * *

><p>"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!"<p>

Her own eyes were blurred with unshed tears but there was no mistaking the hurt she saw in Spock's face—and knowing that she'd done that to him when all she wanted to do was spare him pain made Nyota feel lower than dirt; but she didn't trust her shields right now, not when she was hurting this much, and if he so much as glimpsed the truth this way...

Not for the first time she found herself wondering if this was the universe's way of setting right a wrong. After all, in another timeline their relationship never went beyond simple friendship. What if his amnesia was just this timeline's way of fixing everything? If it ultimately made him happier than she could live with that—or learn to live with that. She'd find a way.

Still there was so much she wanted to say, least of all apologize for her panicked screams, but the sharp twist in her gut prevented it. "McCoy," she whispered. "Call McCoy."

He whipped out his communicator but she never heard him speak—the world around her was deathly quiet and all she could focus on was the fire tearing through her body. Spock stood at attention a half meter away, his eyes never leaving hers and his hands clasped firmly behind his back. Nyota didn't know if she wanted to thank him for his consideration or scream. Seconds passed in quiet fury and black spots replaced the stars in her vision. If she passed out before Len got here Spock would have no choice but to help her and she'd be powerless to stop him.

The swirl of transporter lights just beyond his shoulder caught her gaze.

* * *

><p>"You came," she whispered, a sad smile crossing her face. Carefully he brushed the hair out of her eyes and took her pulse. Her heart was racing.<p>

"Of course I came! I wouldn't scramble my molecules for just anybody, Darlin'."

She looked about ready to add something to that when another gasp was wrenched from her lips and her whole body tensed. Worriedly, he looked over to Hoichi holding the scanner but the man shook his head. _She's not losin' the baby, that's good, but then what's goin' on?_

He was about to order his team to roll her onto the backboard so they could hurry to sickbay and find out. "You're not wearing any shoes," she blurted out.

Len chuckled and looked down at his hairy feet. Of course she'd notice that at a time like this. "Well that's because there wasn't any time…you're an important case. Just be grateful I wore pants to bed or I'd be here in nothin' but my skivvies." Seeing her smile a little more warmly helped ease his own panic. "Now, care to tell me what's the matter?"

"I…don't…know…" she lied, wincing and grabbing his arm; her iron-clad grip almost made _him_ grimace. He knew she was trying to keep her secret just a little while longer and he hastened to reassure her that the baby was well.

"It's going to be alright."

She nodded and relaxed as he and Gerard helped ease her onto the backboard and strapped her in for the ride to sickbay. All four of them raced off without another word, leaving a stunned Vulcan Commander in their wake.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.96, 0448. **_He sat on a couch reading a technical PADD, idly stroking a cool object perched in his lap. Examining it further he saw he was caressing a lovely, slender, brown foot. His eyes followed the accompanying leg and Spock discovered Lieutenant Uhura resting at the other end, her back pressed against the armrest and her own work in hand. _

_She was dressed in tan shorts and a plain t-shirt and appeared very much at ease in his company; more importantly she was not the least bit put off by his touch. Deciding to take leave of his senses he pressed his advantage and laid his palm down where ankle met calf, sending her a short burst of affectionate, sexually-tinged thoughts._

_"Mmmm." She shifted her free leg and continued to moan invitingly, making his lok* twitch. 2.1 minutes later he utilized this ploy again and studied her reaction. Her heart beat faster, her temperature rose and her scent now pleasantly filled his nostrils._

_Yawning, she stretched and withdrew her feet, making him almost sigh at the loss. She was fatigued then. He would let her rest._

_Slowly he became aware of her weight shifting on the sofa and turned to see her crawling forward until she was able to straddle his lap. Spock was further surprised when she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in for a long, passionate kiss. He kissed back just as fully, pulling her closer so that their chests were flush and he could feel her heart racing beneath her shirt._

_"Come to bed, Spock."_

_His lok tenting his pants he needed no further inducement and her half-veiled eyes flew open as he leapt up off the couch and carried her away. Leaning down to nuzzle her neck she raked her fingers through his hair, occasionally tweaking the tips of his ears so that rational thought was nigh near impossible._

_"Mine!" _

Spock awoke alone, the snarl dying on his lips, his sheets torn and his lok swollen and straining between his legs.

It had been a dream—nothing more than a dream.

Cursing this quirk of his physiology he rose and tore the ruined bedding off in one swift motion, discarding it in the trash all while the echo of '_Mine!_' reverberated in his head.

Lieutenant Uhura was married. She was not his to have, nor did she want him, let alone have his friendship. Re-examining her recent behavior could not have made that fact more clear.

_"Commander, I am not avoiding you. There is nothing to avoid." _

_"If you are suggesting that I am shunning you socially…"_

_"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!"_

Those thoughts did more for him than a cold shower ever could.

He had returned to his quarters several hours ago in a highly agitated state. Spock had been distressed by the amount of pain the Lieutenant was in and perturbed and confused by her actions. Her attitude and his frame of mind initiated the chain of events that followed and at least partially explained why she had been the focus of his dream.

But why such a mundane setting? And why the reversal in her attitude? Was he trying to remember her as she was or impose on her what he wanted her to be? That thought brought with it another curious question.

What _did_ he want her to be?

Thinking back on the vision he recalled the intimate, skin-to-skin contact, the kisses, the longing…

_MINE!_

Spock's eyes snapped open.

He had amorous designs on Lieutenant Uhura. Serious ones.

The notion was nearly unfathomable. He had always admired her intelligence and was aware even when they were still at the Academy that she possessed a maturity and poise well beyond her human years. Her…physical fitness…too…was not lost on him. In fact, he thought the last 3.89 years serving aboard the _Enterprise _had only served to enhance all of her natural qualities.

So when had his regard for her changed? Surely not while they were still in San Francisco; there was the impropriety alone to consider, not to mention the damage that could have been done to his career if it ever came to light. Yet Spock was acutely aware that these—_feelings_—had not simply arisen overnight. They had taken time to develop, possibly years.

Another thought sent a shock through his already overloaded system. Had he—prior to the incident on Anguillida—made his intentions toward her known? If he had done so while the Lieutenant was married or even betrothed than he could not fault her for her scorn.

Looking down at his lap Spock saw his hands trembling; he had been both unaware of the sensation and was now unable to halt it. He had 2.25 hours left before he was expected on shift and yet there was no way he could function on the bridge in this state. Walking over to the terminal he called up the duty roster and contacted a subordinate to replace him, then returned to the mat and lit a match for his firepot. The primal urge to mark and mate swelled up within him even as he fought mightily to tamp it down.

_This will not do. Lieutenant Uhura is __married__. _

_This. Will. Not. Do._

He would master these emotions. He was above succumbing to their whims unlike his human colleagues. He was Vulcan. These—_feelings—_for her would pass.

They would.

They had to, or else he would need to transfer ships to escape her pull.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.97, 1515 hours. **Nyota sat before her comm. screen, shawl draped around her shoulders, and sighed before pressing the button. Her father-in-law's imposing image sprung up moments later. "Greetings, sa-mekh**."

"Ko-fu***."

The one word left her feeling suitably chastised and she watched with downcast eyes as he took in her radically changed form. Before she'd managed to hide her pregnancy by sitting with a PADD in her lap or by making the view-screen smaller. Now there was no taking it back; Sarek knew all.

_"The damn VSA scientists withheld everything!" Len ranted after she'd been stabilized and awake for more than five minutes at a stretch. He and his team had had to sedate her for over a day as they tried to figure out what was wrong. There was nothing in the medical journals McCoy had at his disposal and with his hands tied he'd turned to the last person she wanted involved—Spock's father. _

_"They didn't think it was important," the Doctor continued, his drawl thickening as he growled, "To note the extreme __**intra-uterine **__development in the hybrid pregnancy that lasted 10-14 days! How in the world is that NOT important? Ambassador Sarek said they almost lost Spock AND Lady Amanda because no one knew that would happen, and yet they didn't think it was SIGNIFICANT enough after the fact to put it in their papers…for crying out loud! What the hell else d'ya think they left out?"_

_She wondered that as well as she idly rubbed her belly._

"I should have been informed. It was your duty as a member of this clan to notify us of a viable pregnancy."

Sarek's deep intonation quickly brought her back to the present and she fiddled with the end of her shawl. "I was going to, soon, I was just waiting…"

"Spock needs be informed as well."

Nyota quietly seethed. She knew she'd been wrong not to tell Sarek and she was grateful to him for saving both their lives but that didn't mean he had any right to dictate how they were lived from here on out. "Look, Sarek…"

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. "This charade has gone on long enough. We have tried things your way. He needs to be told."

"You don't know what you're talking about! You don't see him everyday, he's happier this way!" she shouted back. The sudden jolt sent Baby S'chn T'gai kicking away, making her stomach stretch at odd angles in an almost-comical fashion.

The Vulcan's eyes widened and neither spoke until the movement ceased. "The child is like his father," he murmured quietly, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. Turning his dark eyes to her he added, "I do not believe that Spock is content in his present condition."

Sarek was hitting her where it hurt and he knew it so she went for the low blow too. "You don't know that. You don't know him like I do."

There—she'd hit her mark…too bad it didn't feel quite as gratifying as she'd hoped.

* * *

><p><em><strong>New Vulcan Colony, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.96, 1515 hours local time. **Her address scrolled across the screen and Sarek paused, hesitating a fraction of a second before dismissing his assistant and accepting the call. Despite all outward signs to the contrary he was still greatly distressed by his recent communications with the _Enterprise _(and a certain lack thereof) and was unsure if he was emotionally stable enough for the coming conversation.

_"Thank you, Ambassador. No disrespect to you or your people but what were they thinkin' leavin' out crucial information like this? Didn't they ever anticipate that Spock might want to have kids one day? Or that there'd be other Vulcan/Human couples that'd want to have children of their own?"_

_Judging by the odd expression on his face he determined the human physician was not asking rhetorically; however, in all honesty, until Sarek received the call 33 minutes and 8 seconds ago he was of the same mind as the VSA scientists who helped make Spock's conception possible—that his son would never be able to reproduce naturally. At best, biological parenthood might be obtained through more of the same artificial means he and Amanda had endured; at worst, his son would experience a childless existence. _

_And now it was discovered that his only daughter-in-law was 4.56 months with child._

A new life for the clan. For him. For his son. After the devastation Sarek was unsure that such a thing was possible. Where once the S'chn T'gai clan had been a large, noble house numbering in the hundreds there were only four dozen left; distant cousins, uncles, aunts, all stragglers clinging to each other and their name. T'Pau was getting far in her years and soon that generation would be gone as well, dwindling their numbers even more. If more children were not born in the coming time then the descendants of Surak would be absorbed into other clans and erased just as surely as their planet had been.

Turning his attention to the screen he eyed his daughter-in-law closely. She was fuller of face than when he last spoke with her two weeks ago and looking down at her stomach he realized he should have recognized the signs sooner.

"Greetings, sa-mekh."

"Ko-fu." She certainly looked penitent. "I should have been informed. It was your duty as a member of this clan to notify us of a viable pregnancy."

Nyota looked away and fiddled with the scarf draped about her shoulders. "I was going to, soon, I was just waiting…"

"Spock needs be informed as well."

He remembered well the day Amanda told him of her pregnancy, how she scarcely dared to hope and he could feel her anxiety and pleasure hum across the bond at the prospect of giving him a child. His son deserved such a moment with his own adun'a****.

His daughter-in-law, on the other hand, saw things differently. "Look, Sarek…"

No; he would not 'look'. She must be made to see reason. "This charade has gone on long enough. We have tried things your way. He needs to be told."

"You don't know what you're talking about! You don't see him everyday, he's happier this way!"

Sarek very much doubted her words and was about to say as much when her stomach lurched, the child within moving frantically about.

_"Sarek!"_

_Her alarm had him on his feet and out his study in 1.59 seconds. Moving swiftly through the house he came across her in the informal living room resting on the lounge. Amanda had one hand placed on top of her stomach while the other gripped the back of the furniture. Standing in the doorway, Sarek panicked at the sight until she lifted her hand and urged him closer; clasping him by the wrist he felt nothing but joy and love as she pulled his palm to her stomach. A tiny foot instantly connected with his hand._

_Her eyes lit up at his surprise. "See? We already have a little suus mahna***** master on our hands. He's going to be just like his Daddy…"_

"The child is like his father," he murmured quietly, hoping the hint of emotion was not detected by the cunning linguist his son had bonded with. Returning to the matter at hand his eyes darkened. Nyota may not have fully understood how deep the bond ran but Sarek did and now with a child on the horizon he needed to _make_ her see. "I do not believe that Spock is content in his present condition."

"You don't know that," she retorted sharply. "You don't know him like I do."

Sarek was stunned. Her words wounded him more deeply than she could have imagined—or perhaps that was her intent, to shut him out where she felt he had no business interfering. Under normal circumstances Nyota would have been correct; however, the situation they now found themselves in was far from normal.

"My Amanda often said she was extremely emotional during this stage in Spock's development. She too admitted to saying things she later came to regret," he replied, softening his stance. "Do not misconstrue what I am saying. I am only involving myself in this matter because I am concerned for your wellbeing, as well as that of Spock and the child."

Turning, he blinked away the abhorrent piece of dust in his eye. The uncles, aunts, cousins with him on New Vulcan—he had no true ties to them. Spock and Nyota and now this child were the ones he held closest to his heart. "You are also the only family I have left."

* * *

><p>*lok = Vulkhansu for male genitalia<p>

**sa-mekh = Vulkahnsu for father

***ko-fu = Vulkhansu for daughter

****adun'a = Vulkhansu for wife

****suus mahna = Vulcan martial arts

**A/N 2:** Hi again all. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I know people are getting frustrated and think that this is dragging out a bit and with that in mind I have a proposal to make. I am currently working on Chapters 15 and 16 and (I believe) nearing the end of this tale. Now what I normally like to do is have a story near-completion before I start posting, then post chapters periodically so that I have a buffer between when I start and when the conclusion is actually due. What I'm _thinking_ of doing is posting the next few chapters in rapid succession and then _maybe_ going on a bit of a posting break.

So, with that said, anybody care to share their thoughts with the class? Good idea, bad idea? Let me know either way because I'd love to hear from you!


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **Spock does something atypical in this chapter (well, more atypical than usual) and I'm asking for your patience as well as your indulgence. Also, please read the second A/N at the end of the chapter before reviewing. Thanks.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_**, Stardate 2261.99, 1235 hours. **Spock was sitting in the Mess picking at his lunch when two familiar voices piped up beyond his shoulder. "I hope she ees alright. Eet ees very quiet on the bridge without her." He heard the navigator pick his way carefully among the tables. "I vonder vhat ees wrong?"

His ears pricked up as there was now no mistaking who the young man was referring to. Spock had been wondering precisely the same thing since he first saw Lieutenant Uhura collapse but there was no information to be had; he was effectively shut out.

"I don't know," Lieutenant Sulu chimed in. "I mean, it's like she's under quarantine. No one's seen her in days and McCoy and the Captain won't tell anybody anything except that she's ok and resting comfortably."

He was granted a measure of relief at the news but still found he could not eat. Pushing the plomeek soup around he continued to eavesdrop as the men drew closer.

"Vhat does Vendy haf to say?"

The pilot's retort was sharp and quick. "What makes you think she has anything _to _say?"

"Vell you haf been spending a lot of time with her and she does vork in sickbay…not to mention that you both like each other a lot."

The pair came around his table and paused on the other side. "She…" the Lieutenant stopped short. "Wait, you really think she likes me?"

Ensign Chekov rolled his eyes then turned in his direction. "Commander, may ve join you?"

Now he could be an active participant in their discussion about Lieutenant Uhura. "You may."

The pilot pulled out a chair and quickly sat down. "Thanks. And as far as Wendy goes she says she can't tell me anything other then that the Lieutenant's stable and ok." He took a sip of his tea and looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "Of course, she's always like 'She's _okkkk_' and then gives me this adorable goofy smile…"

Mr. Chekov looked pointedly in his direction and pretended to gag before rolling his eyes again and grinning. Indeed, Spock was also most perplexed by this turn in the conversation. Other than the higher pitch and elongation of the last syllable he did not discern any particular nuance that Lieutenant Sulu might have picked up on. However, he did understand to some extent why the other man was confused.

"Indeed. I find the vagaries and intonations of emotional human speech patterns to be most perplexing as well."

His company nodded in agreement before resuming their meal.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.100, 0947 hours. **Nyota didn't understand what all the fuss was about anymore. She had the numbing cream, had been taking her medication regularly, and had kept her feet up for the last four days and the baby was _definitely _settling down; and while it was all but impossible for her to deny being pregnant anymore she felt fine. Better than fine, in fact. So much so that she couldn't imagine six more days cooped up in her quarters with nothing to do.

Really, Len was overreacting.

Rising up from the sofa she sauntered into the bedroom and eyed her wardrobe critically. She couldn't get away with the standard uniform now—the skirt would barely cover her bottom—and Nyota didn't want to start the ship's gossip by requisitioning a maternity outfit from stores. With the decision made for her she turned to her casual clothes but her stock of shirts, skirts and pants wouldn't do either. Everything was too fitted and tight.

Oh well, game over. McCoy won this round.

Giving up with a sigh she moved away and began mentally compiling a shopping list for her next shore leave when her eyes darted over to her bottom dresser drawer. Pulling it open she withdrew the sweats and examined them closely for any possible defects. She rarely wore them but kept them just in case and now she was glad that she had. The pants had an elastic waist and if she kept her hands in the front pocket of the hooded sweatshirt no one would be the wiser.

Fifteen minutes later and decked out in the least flattering outfit she'd ever worn Nyota took her first steps on her stroll about the ship. Most of her friends and colleagues were working but those few she passed stopped to chat and ask after her health. Without going into detail she helped put their fears at ease.

After a quick pit stop in the lab she made her way up to the bridge, and as she exited the turbolift all eyes turned to her and Nyota saw Kirk's brow go up in question. "I'm just picking up some work, that's all. I'll be out of your hair in five minutes." The concern was quickly replaced by a mischievous gleam and with a pointed finger she added, "And don't you dare think of tattling on me to Len."

The Captain threw up his hands in defeat. "Wouldn't dream of it." Turning back around she heard him whisper loudly, "Defying orders, insubordination with implied threat of bodily harm to a superior…" Sulu and Chekov snickered as they went back to their stations.

Nyota knew they were all curious about her emergency sick leave when she was so obviously healthy but they were professionals and had their own duties to attend to; besides, once word got out she was expecting they'd know what went on soon enough. Everyone was busy save for one man and as Nyota locked eyes with Spock she felt the blush rise up to her cheeks. Was it possible he suspected her condition? Not wanting to know the answer she hustled to her station and dismissed Ensign Bellor for a coffee break.

Five minutes quickly turned into twenty-five and she heard the Captain clear his throat in warning. "Uhura…"

"Five more minutes."

"That's what you said ten minutes ago."

_God, he is such a child!_ She had every intention of turning her station back over to Bellor (who was waiting patiently in the wings), she just needed to finish downloading this new sample translation software Starfleet wanted her to test first.

It was as she was strumming her fingers along the countertop waiting for her PADD that Nyota felt the first rumblings in her stomach.

_No! No, no, no, NO!_

Bracing herself as discreetly as she could she chanced a look at her PADD and saw the transfer was only 45% complete. Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly Nyota worked her way through the bombardment while the seconds ticked past. Another minute and the download was 87% complete; meanwhile the tremors grew to full out quakes. Len was going to kill her when she walked into sickbay.

The download was no sooner done then she motioned for Bellor and rose unsteadily on her feet to face the firing squad. As soon as she did the whole room swayed.

* * *

><p>The turbolift doors parted and Spock had never been gladder to see Lieutenant Uhura standing there under her own power. Despite her unusual and extremely casual attire she appeared to be in peak physical form, the utter opposite of how she looked just four days before. Smiling sweetly at everyone she turned her attention to the Captain. "I'm just picking up some work, that's all. I'll be out of your hair in five minutes." The man said nothing and yet the Lieutenant scowled. "And don't you dare think of tattling on me to Len."<p>

"Wouldn't dream of it." Swiveling about he heard the Captain utter loudly, "Defying orders, insubordination with implied threat of bodily harm to a superior…"

Spock's eyebrows shot up. Those were serious charges to level against a fellow officer, however, the Lieutenant did not seem unduly ruffled by the accusations. Perhaps this was all part of their unorthodox relationship, or so he surmised. Meeting his gaze, he watched the blood rush to her cheeks and the Lieutenant quickly stepped forward to dismiss her subordinate. Spock returned to his own work.

27.1 minutes had passed and Ensign Bellor was still standing at ease against the far wall, eyes on her superior as she awaited return to her station.

"Uhura…" Captain Kirk warned.

She waved him off without turning around. "Five more minutes."

"That's what you said ten minutes ago."

_9.78 minutes ago_, he mentally corrected. Bent over his microscope he listened for the familiar comm. station chair squeak, indicating the Lieutenant was at last ready to depart. As she rose he heard the sharp intake of breath and whipped around in time to see her eyes roll to white as she sagged to the ground. Spock was out of his chair before Ensign Bellor had a chance to raise the alarm.

"LIEUTENANT!"

His knees burned against the carpet as he slid in to stop her head from hitting the corner of the console. Lieutenant Uhura was unconscious with no apparent cause. He rose with her cradled in his arms, shifting her limp form against him to allow for greater ease of movement; as he did so the palm of his hand ghosted across the exposed skin at the small of her back causing him to very nearly gasp. He'd been immediately pulled in by a bright white light—a life spark.

Lieutenant Uhura was with child.

_"DON'T TOUCH ME!"_

This was what she did not want him to know.

The world around him stilled. He was aware that the Captain had risen from his seat but it was as if the man were caught in a gravity well; his shouts came out as deep, overdrawn echoes and the rest of the command crew moved in the same stilted motion as they obeyed. Realizing that there were now two lives in his hands Spock broke with protocol and spun on his heel, bolting out the door into the lift while clutching her to his chest.

The whole episode took place in only 5.6 seconds.

Sprinting along, walls and crewmembers blurring together, Spock felt the light of both mother and child ebb and flow with each spasm. As he rounded the last corner he picked up on a tendril of Lieutenant Uhura's subconscious thoughts. The white light parted, revealing the red and orange-hued desert landscape of her youth. She twirled about, arms stretched over her head toward the light while she smiled and laughed. Slowing, she caught sight of him standing at attention some meters away and beckoned him to join her.

"Spokh!"

How his heart ached at the sight of that smile, the tinkle of her laugh. Even the sound of his name tripping off her tongue—his own mother had never been able to fully overcome her human accent and pronounce it quite right—and it made him hurt all the more knowing she would never be his.

The doors to sickbay flew open and Spock found Doctor McCoy on his comm., his team ready and waiting nearby.

"Tell me what we've got, Geoff!"

M'Benga looked to his tricorder as they moved as one entity across the room. "She's having another episode; I'm only reading trace amounts of anesthetic in her system."

"Dammit, Ny," the Doctor cursed. "Mackenzie, I need 50cc's…"

* * *

><p>"She said she only needed 5 minutes. She looked fine, Bones! I figured what's the harm?"<p>

"THE HARM," he raged into his communicator as his team scrambled and he reached for a hypospray, "Is that _**I **_ordered her on bed rest for a reason! Jesus, doesn't anyone listen to me anymore, or is the CMO just a figurehead on this ship?"

The kid wisely refrained from answering. Len knew if he should be pissed at anybody it should be Uhura for disobeying him in the first place but that didn't stop him from tearing into the Captain regardless. "What's her ETA?"

"Spock's got her. They should be…"

"They're here!" Geoff shouted. Hanging up abruptly he watched M'Benga run a tricorder over his friend. Spock stood with his wife in his arms looking as serious as a heart attack and the team guided them over en masse to a waiting biobed.

"Tell me what we've got, Geoff!"

"She's having another episode; I'm only reading trace amounts of anesthetic in her system."

"Dammit, Ny." If she didn't start slowin' down like he ordered her too… "Mackenzie, I need 50cc's…" McCoy looked down to the bed and stopped short. His patient wasn't there and everyone around him had their eyes trained on Spock. The Commander was still cradling Nyota in his arms and appeared to have no intention of relinquishing her.

_I can't say that I blame him, _Len thought with a gulp. A sense of foreboding stole over him as he slowly stepped toward the Commander. "Mr. Spock, you have to put her down so we can treat her."

"She is expecting," he answered robotically. Beside him he heard Wendy gasp and he had to stifle his own murmur of shock. Just how much had the hobgoblin discovered? Whatever he knew, his features betrayed nothing. "I must have your assurances that any course of treatment you embark on will not harm her or the child."

Taking another step forward Spock watched his every move like a hawk and McCoy swore he almost saw a grimace on the Vulcan's ordinarily blank face. "I give you my word I'll do _everything_ in my power to help them both." His friend nodded but did not release her. "They're in good hands," he coaxed. "I swear I won't let anything happen."

If he didn't let go soon and if the spurt was bad enough the baby might do some serious damage to Nyota; that said it occurred to him he might have no choice but to treat her while Spock held on. He was about to order him up onto the biobed when he laid Uhura down so gently it made even his old, broken heart seize. How could she keep insisting that he was better off without her?

The Commander kept his gaze trained on her as he slowly backed away, becoming one with the wall so they could work.

"Mackenzie, I need 50cc's of bipurvicaine, stat."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.102, 0210 hours.** The sweat poured out of him—from the crown of his head to the tops of his feet—and dripped down into his eyes. Still Spock remained motionless, crouched in a defensive stance even as his vision blurred, until a flash of movement on his left caught his eye. Swiveling quickly on the ball of his foot he met his assailant head on and struck a hard blow across the chest, knocking the target down in one go. Another swooped in and he dove and rolled out of the way, popping up in the far corner of the room. Running full tilt he leapt in the air with a mighty roar and delivered a swift kick to the dummy's back.

He thought he detected movement to his right and turned to attack when the lights rose instead and the battlefield littered with bodies faded out of existence. "Simulation complete."

Spock straightened in the old, familiar posture. "Acknowleged."

He had arrived at the gym two hours earlier with the goal of finding a new means of counter-balancing his deteriorating mental and emotional state. Meditation was no longer a sufficient enough outlet for suppressing his thoughts and feelings for Lieutenant Uhura and the dreams were coming on more vividly with every evening.

_Sitting_ _in his office at the Academy, both reaching for the same PADD, the tips of his fingers brushing ever so lightly against the back of her hand sending sparks…_

_Standing behind her at a console in the simulation lab, leaning in to answer yet another question and resisting the urge to brush the loose hair away from her neck…_

_Walking across campus, her eyes and ears only for him despite the calls of her friends. Her dazzling white smile as she looked up into his face…how he ached to cup her cheek and trace the dimple that formed with his thumb… _

The overwhelming emotions these visions dredged up lingered, despite the fact that the events themselves never occurred.

The knowledge that Lieutenant Uhura was now with child only cemented the reality of her marriage. Spock was peripherally aware that he had been planning to try and win her away from her spouse; it was reprehensible of him to even consider such a course of action and yet he had planned it all the same. With this latest revelation those plans changed. He would not break up her family—he would not be able to live with himself even if he succeeded—and so exercise became the last method available for purging all unrequited thoughts of _her_.

Spock happened upon the programs by chance that evening; apparently in his previous life he had programmed seventeen separate, simulated battles to be played out in the double decker arena of the gym, most likely for the same purpose with which he was employing them now. Reviewing his handiwork he wondered why he had continued to torture himself by remaining on-board, watching and working with her day after day, all the while knowing she was happily married to another. Spock told himself he stayed because it was beneficial to his career but that was not entirely true; even if there was no way he could ever be with the Lieutenant he no longer knew how to live without her presence.

His muscles ached pleasantly as he walked across the room for his water bottle and the burden he alone carried was momentarily assuaged. For the first time since discovering the true depth of his feelings for Lieutenant Uhura, Spock could think of her without being bowled over by his own inner turmoil.

* * *

><p>"No."<p>

"_Len_…"

"Don't 'Len' me, Ny. The answer's still no!"

"But I told you I'm sorry," she whined, following him around sickbay in the maternity uniform Christine brought her. The Doctor continued to ignore her as he stared at his PADD, filling out the paperwork for her release.

"And it's gonna take more than that for me to forgive you this time," came his quick retort. "You went AMA and passed out ON THE BRIDGE! Do you know what could've happened? They told me you almost cracked your skull open on the console and if they hadn't gotten you here as quickly as they did…!" He sighed and brushed his hair back, looking down hard into her face. Nyota stopped and swayed, finding it difficult to navigate now that her equilibrium was thrown off with her recently-added girth. McCoy instinctively reached out to steady her and his expression softened.

Nyota saw her opening. "Please?" she asked, batting her puppy dog eyes at him beseechingly.

His shoulders slumped. "Fifteen minutes," he grumbled softly.

"Thank you!" She reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before spinning about toward the exit.

"You play dirty, you know that? You're worse than Kirk!"

She laughed. "Am not! And you love me because I'm _nothing_ like him!"

"You two are going to be the death of me…"

Fifteen minutes; she had fifteen minutes to get back to her quarters and if she didn't answer his comm. when he paged Len would send out a search party to find her, dogs included (though how he planned to produce them was anybody's guess). If she set so much as one toe out of line from here on out he was going to lock her up in sickbay for the duration of her pregnancy—and she trusted him to do it too. Not relishing the prospect Nyota waddled along, enjoying her last minutes of freedom as she hurried back to her temporary quarters.

As she walked the stark hallways it dawned on her that it was the middle of ship's night. She'd been sedated so long her clock was all off which was why right now she had energy to burn. Looking down the hall she saw someone else had the same idea; the lights were dim but shining through the windows of the gym's observation arena and she wandered over to watch.

Her heart skipped a beat as Spock—barefoot, shirtless and sweating profusely—launched himself into the air only to transition into a defensive crouch at the last second and land on the balls of his feet. He was breathtakingly beautiful, always, but especially when he let loose like this. His alien strength and grace made him an awesome sight to behold and she appreciated the chance to openly admire his form.

His back was turned to her and as she studied the muscular planes and ridges, recalling the last time she'd held him close. They made love the night before he beamed down and she'd dug her nails into him mercilessly, causing Spock to shudder and thrust into her in an explosion of ecstasy that sent them both tumbling over the edge.

Heat pooled in her core just thinking about it.

She stood staring at him so long remembering what was that when he finally sprang into action again she squeaked in surprise. He'd sliced the previously unseen target once across the chest before jumping and rolling out of the way of a second one sneaking up from behind. With a great roar he flew through the air and his foot landed squarely on the target's back, knocking him down for the count and ending the simulation.

Nyota hustled along before he could catch her staring, knowing she would have to learn to content herself with these few stolen moments whenever she could.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.105, 2036 hours.** Kirk raised his glass and surveyed the rest of his friends seated around the table with a happy gleam in his eye. "To Uhura!" he cheered.

"To Uhura!" McCoy tipped back his glass without a second invitation while Sulu, Chekov and Scotty clinked mugs. Spock stared into his own drink disbelievingly before taking a sip; Jim wondered if it was because he was surprised that he knew he liked Guinness or because he had some stored expressly for him. As he resumed his seat Jim winced at the ache from the bruise in his forearm.

"Bones, are you sure you don't have…"

His friend was already pouring another three fingers of bourbon. "No."

"But it hurts!"

"Well then let that be a lesson to you next time you open your mouth without thinking."

"Come on, Doc," Sulu chimed in, "Can't you give him a little something?" Jim grinned before the pilot added, "Because it'd be so worth it to see Uhura haul off and slug him like that again." Kirk's face fell as the group chuckled.

"The Lieutenant hit you?" Spock asked.

Oh. Right. He hadn't been on the bridge when it all went down. He felt his cheeks grow hot.

"Da!" Chekov replied a little _too _enthusiastically. "The Lieutenant, she came onto the bridge and before anyone could say anything the Keptin said 'Vhoa Momma! Vhat did you do, svallow a basketball?' and then VHAM! She hit him!"

Remembering the moment vividly Jim rubbed his arm. "She doesn't pull her punches either," he mumbled.

"Lieutenant Uhura is a Starfleet officer; she has been trained never to 'pull her punches', nor should she have to."

"Aye," Scotty agreed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, "I'd have punched you too, Cap'n, if'n it'd been me you wer sayin' that to."

Annoyed, Kirk tossed out the deck of cards and threw up his hands in defeat, wincing again as he jostled the bruise some more. "Alright, I get it, I had it comin'…now somebody deal!" Sulu grabbed the pack and shuffled as they all retreated to their steins.

"I wonder what she's havin'?" the engineer asked as a card was tossed in his direction. He looked to McCoy for a clue but got none while Chekov began calculating the odds under his breath. "It doesn't matter either way really; it'll be nice havin' a wee bairn toddlin' around the ship."

_That_ remark got the Doctor's attention. "Spoken by someone who's clearly never had kids."

"None that he knows of, anyway," Sulu teased.

"Hey! Laddie, I'll have you know…"

"A starship is no place for a child," Spock interjected coolly. He examined his hand as the rest of the table gawked at his uncharacteristic outburst. "When we joined Starfleet we understood and accepted the fact that we would be placing our lives at risk yet we each went through with the decision to enlist. A child born aboard a starship, especially a ship such as the _Enterprise_, has made no such choice. To fall pregnant at this juncture in her life and career and without the support of her husband was a reckless action on the part of Lieutenant Uhura."

Everyone froze. He was calling his own child a mistake? Grasping futilely at the wheel to try and steer the conversation away Jim joked, "If I didn't know any better, Mr. Spock, I'd say you were demeaning my fair ship. The _Enterprise_ is perfectly safe."

* * *

><p>"To Uhura!"<p>

His crewmates sat back, clinking glasses and chattering. Spock stared down at the dark black liquid, curious to know how the Captain came to learn of his fondness for Guinness. Every time Spock thought he understood what manner of man the Captain was he would display a new facet of his character that at turns baffled and intrigued him.

James T. Kirk was a man that refused to be classified.

"Bones,"—the manner in which the Doctor squirmed under this address secretly pleased Spock to no end—"Are you sure you don't have…"

Dr. McCoy freshened his drink, not sparing a glance at the pitiful whine coming from his superior officer. "No."

"But it hurts!"

"Well then let that be a lesson to you next time you open your mouth without thinking."

It was an interesting study, witnessing the two men banter with such ease and familiarity. Spock almost longed for a similar relationship for himself.

"Come on, Doc," Lt. Sulu said, "Can't you give him a little something? Because it'd be so worth it to see Uhura haul off and slug him like that again."

He very nearly betrayed his shock but managed to swallow down his drink without incident. This was twice now that he knew of of the Lieutenant being insubordinate, and while the Captain welcomed a certain degree of familiarity actually striking a superior officer was punishable by court martial and dishonorable discharge. Previously he had never known his former student to lay a hand upon anyone unless it was in self-defense. "The Lieutenant hit you?"

The Captain's face suddenly grew flush.

"Da!" The navigator hastened to reply. "The Lieutenant, she came onto the bridge and before anyone could say anything the Keptin said 'Vhoa Momma! Vhat did you do, svallow a basketball?' and then VHAM! She hit him!"

"She doesn't pull her punches either," Kirk uttered under his breath.

Incredibly he found himself defending her behavior. "Lieutenant Uhura is a Starfleet officer; she has been trained never to 'pull her punches', nor should she have to."

"Aye. I'd have punched you too, Cap'n, if'n it'd been me you wer sayin' that to."

Tensed and waiting, Spock watched Captain Kirk out of the corner of his eye as he tossed a deck of playing cards into the center of the table and threw up his hands. "Alright, I get it, I had it comin'…now somebody deal!"

Lieutenant Sulu grabbed the pack and Spock retreated to his Guinness to hide his relief. Talk quickly returned to speculation over Lieutenant Uhura's child.

"I wonder what she's havin'?" the Chief Engineer asked. When he rushed the Lieutenant to sickbay Spock was too preoccupied with keeping her and the child alive to determine the gender—and as they were all well aware of the 50-50 odds of the infant being of one sex or the other he refrained from answering. Picking up a card tossed in his direction he carefully considered his hand. "It doesn't matter either way really; it'll be nice havin' a wee bairn toddlin' around the ship."

"Spoken by someone who's clearly never had kids," Doctor McCoy muttered behind his cards.

"None that he knows of, anyway."

"Hey! Laddie, I'll have you know…"

"A starship is no place for a child," he interjected, surprised by the sound of his own voice. "When we joined Starfleet we understood and accepted the fact that we would be placing our lives at risk yet we each went through with the decision to enlist. A child born aboard a starship, especially a ship such as the _Enterprise_, has made no such choice. To fall pregnant at this juncture in her life and career and without the support of her husband was a reckless action on the part of Lieutenant Uhura."

His logic was sound and yet Spock was puzzled as to why he spoke about her in such a negative fashion. He knew as surely as he knew the first 100 decimal places of pi that the Lieutenant was not a rash person and would be the best possible mother a child could ever want or need—so why was he lambasting her life choices?

And why was he being so vocal about this position with his crewmates?

"If I didn't know any better, Mr. Spock, I'd say you were demeaning my fair ship. The _Enterprise_ is perfectly safe," Captain Kirk said with a laugh. This was not a humorous discussion.

"Negative. In the last 2.96 years the ship has been involved in 87 separate altercations, a 31.3% increase over other starships of this class, which have resulted in 154 casualties. To expect to raise a child alone and in such a hostile environment is naïve of her at best." Spock placed two cards down on the tabletop, recalling a footnote he had read in the Captain's file. "You of all people, Captain, should understand the perils of being born in space."

Looking up across the table he heard the Doctor mutter a quiet "Easy, Jim" with the others looking back and forth at them nervously. He had said nothing untrue—so why did Spock feel so ugly for having said it?

* * *

><p>He was horrified by what he was hearing; still, Sulu knew the Commander only said what he did because he was extremely concerned. Despite their excitement they were all worried about Uhura and the baby too.<p>

After all, it's not as if their anxiety was without precedent.

_He looked up to find Spock standing at ease just beyond the lab doors. "Hey Spock! How's Uhura?"_

_The Commander waited until Sulu approached to answer. "She is…improving."_

_His heart went out to them. There'd been rumors flying about since she got sick five days ago but nothing had been substantiated. Still, if what they were saying was true it would explain why his friend looked so lost._

_"The Lieutenant insisted I vacate our quarters; I chose to stop and inquire if you are in need of any assistance."_

_Sulu grinned. "Sure. I can always use another pair of steady hands." He led him to the back of the lab, away from the other whispering botanists, and prepared to pull out a pair of work gloves._

_"That is unnecessary."_

_He looked at Spock quizzically. "Are you sure?"_

_"Affirmative."_

_They worked side-by-side in silence for over an hour re-potting the specimens collected on Galleos III until Beta shift trickled out and they were the only ones left. Now that they were alone Spock sunk his hands wrist deep into the earth and kept them there a moment before settling the cactus-like plant in it's new home. It was an uncharacteristically human gesture._

_"Lieutenant Uhura was with child," he finally admitted in a low voice._

_Oh. So the rumors __were__ true. "I grieve with thee." It was a phrase he'd had to utter too many times in the last 2-plus years…but the sentiment was never more true then today. _

_Spock nodded. "I find I am…conflicted."_

_Conflicted? _

_Wait, was he…? _

_"Spock, it's not that I don't want to help you but I'm not sure I'm the best person to talk to about this. Maybe the Doctor…"_

_"I seek unbiased, third party insight into the situation; this is something Doctor McCoy cannot currently provide. Your input in this matter is important as not only is your discretion assured but your judgment is also sound."_

_That was high praise coming from him. Hoping to live up to the Commander's expectations Sulu nodded and waited for him to continue._

_"The dangers to Lieutenant Uhura's physical well-being should she conceive again are numerous. She could suffer from any number or combination of the following ailments: gestational diabetes, copper poisoning, placenta previa, placental abruption, pre-eclampsia…" The list was dizzying and only served to make him more doubtful he should be giving any sort of advice. "This pregnancy was ectopic. Had she remained oblivious to her condition and left it untreated the Doctor concurs she would have bled out within hours." _

_Ignoring his gasp of shock Spock carried on. "Now is neither the time nor the place for us to be having a child. The _Enterprise_ is not only an unsuitable environment for such an endeavor but having a child would necessitate Lieutenant Uhura take the focus away from her career. Such a move would be unwise."_

_Sulu took the information in then asked the question that'd been uppermost in his mind since this whole talk began. "If you don't mind my asking, if now's not a good time and you two aren't ready then why didn't you get your boosters?" _

_Spock shifted away, his head hung low. "We were—unaware—that natural conception was a viable option given my hybrid parentage."_

_The notion sent his head reeling; first learning that Uhura almost died, then discovering that Spock thought he was sterile. He officially knew more about the Commander than he ever wanted to._

_"In spite of recent events I am under the apprehension that it is her desire to attempt to procreate again." He made the prospect sound so off-putting that even he was momentarily loathe to consider 'procreating'—ever. _

_"Well what do you think about that?" _

_"The chances that she will suffer…"_

_"You've already told me about the risks," Sulu cut him off. "Tell me what you think about Uhura wanting to try again for another baby." The Vulcan stiffened beside him and remained conspicuously quiet—it was very telling. _

_"Ok. Do you want to know what I think? I think that you love her and that you'd do anything to protect her…and for a man that doesn't like to admit to feelings seeing her hurt right now and knowing you could lose her again in the future if you do this is scaring the hell out of you." _

_A pair of soulful brown eyes stared back at him, the fear palpable in their depths. "I will __not__ lose her."_

_"You're right, because everything you've told me so far says that while another pregnancy might be dangerous it wouldn't be impossible, right? After all, you're living proof that Vulcans and humans can have kids. Plus there's the chance that she could have a problem-free pregnancy."_

_"The VSA scientists responsible for my…"_

_Now that was a story he __really__ didn't want to hear. "Spock, just tell me, what if she got pregnant again? What would you do?"_

_"I will not allow for that possibility to occur."_

_He frowned at the Commander's certainty. "Right. Well, let's forget for a minute that you 'won't allow it'. Stuff happens. __IF__ Uhura got pregnant again, what would you do?" Sulu waited a beat but no answer was forthcoming. Faking nonchalance he turned back to his potting. "Maybe you'd divorce her? After all, I mean, it would be her fault. I don't think I've ever heard of Vulcans divorcing but hey, you could be the first. Either way it's her problem, right? I mean, she's the one that __allowed__ herself to get knocked up in the first place…"_

_A snarl came from his right. Sparing a glance at the Commander he saw the second-ever expression on Spock's face; brows drawn tight, lips curled in a sinister sneer, hands clenched so hard they cracked the terra cotta. The look said that if he were any other man he'd __kill__ Sulu for even __suggesting__ such a blasphemous thing and Hikaru gulped hard hoping he wasn't quaking like a leaf. Perhaps he had pushed him just a little too far… "Right…so I'm going to ask you again; if Lieutenant Uhura got pregnant—planned or unplanned, shipboard or planet-side, now or in five, ten, or fifteen years—what would you do?"_

_Spock relaxed but still didn't answer, only this time he didn't have to. They both knew he'd move Heaven and Earth for Nyota if it kept her happy and safe; Sulu also knew that the shock of learning he __could__ have a child had awakened the desire in him just as much as it had in his wife, only he refused to admit as much out of fear for her health. Sulu grinned, glad to have averted disaster and knowing he'd helped the Commander. _

_If Spock and Uhura ever had a daughter though G-d help any boy that tried to date her…_

"Who says he isn't supporting her?"

All eyes turned in his direction. "Come again, Sulu?" Jim asked hotly. McCoy still had a hand on his arm as if he wasn't quite sure the Captain wouldn't jump out of his chair and beat his First Officer senseless. He certainly looked like he still wanted to. Spock also turned to face him, intrigued.

Sulu gulped hard, knowing he was treading on thin ice yet again. "Well, I just think that Uhura does have her husband's support. Maybe he _wants_ to be here but can't for one reason or another," his eyes darted around the table, quickly catching and releasing the Commander's piercing gaze, "And maybe he's just as excited about the kid as we are—more really—but he's worried too; scared out of his mind even.

"I mean, look at everything that's just happened to land her in sickbay and all. And maybe the timing isn't great but kids come when they come and I think we all know there's no such thing as perfect timing." He put his cards down and looked them all square in the eye. "He's probably out there right now freaking out because he can't be here, and as happy as he is about having a kid he's probably scared shitless at the very real possibility of losing _her_."

No one spoke but Sulu saw the Captain's stance soften. Everyone tried to gauge whether his little speech had any effect on Spock but the Commander's expression never wavered.

"Your judgment is sound. Perhaps if Lieutenant Uhura's husband were returned to the _Enterprise _he would be able to assist her in maintaining her health and rearing the child; thenthe situation would not appear so dire."

Hikaru caught the Doctor frowning while the Captain merely grimaced over the top of his glass. "Believe me, Mr. Spock, we all want him back…and we're trying everything we can think of to make that happen."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.105, 2312 hours. **Jim put away the poker chips and washed the dirty mugs, leaving them to dry on the rack beside the sink before turning back to the room. Looking at the table he couldn't help but picture Spock sitting ramrod straight in his seat, holding his cards and looking as placid as could be.

_"A starship is no place for a child… To fall pregnant at this juncture…was a reckless action…In the last 2.96 years the ship has been involved in 87 separate altercations…which have resulted in 154 casualties. To expect to raise a child alone and in such a hostile environment is naïve of her at best."_

He got Sulu's message too, loud and clear—even without knowing he was both the husband and father-to-be Spock was still scared for Uhura and the dangers she faced—but the whole conversation still irked him something awful.

_"You of all people, Captain, should understand the perils of being born in space."_

Yeah he did; he really, really did…which was why it was high time he did something about this whole G-dawful mess. Nyota needed to be made to see reason. Bones wasn't any closer to finding a cure and, good as he was, there was no guarantee he'd ever find one by the time she was ready to give birth. What did she expect to happen then? That Spock would see the kid with _his _pointed ears and ignore the obvious? His First Officer was many things but stupid wasn't one of them; the same could also be said for his Chief Communications Officer.

So why were they both acting like idiots?

The phrase 'Love has its reasons that Reason knows not', suddenly sprang to mind.

_Huh—guess that Pascal fella was onto something._

Acting on impulse he headed for her room, stopping mid-way down the corridor and looking around. He had the feeling he was being watched but the hall was empty. Knocking on her door he felt like a nervous kid picking up his first date and only when Uhura answered with her robe cinched tight around her belly did he realize the late hour.

This baby—this baby was coming whether they were ready for it or not. This conversation couldn't wait any longer.

* * *

><p>He was certain he had never been so circumspect in his previous life. Cursing his condition Spock re-traced his steps to the Captain's quarters so they could review aspects of their upcoming mission as he had intended to do at the evening's conclusion. He was very nearly there when he heard the Captain exit, pause once in the middle of the floor, then stride off in the opposite direction. Instead of calling out to him Spock followed at a discreet distance to see where he was headed at such a late hour.<p>

And follow him he did—one floor up to the ambassadorial and guest quarters which were currently unoccupied. Curious to learn what he was doing Spock stopped and listened as the Captain rapped at one of the doors. A pair of soft footsteps shuffled forward.

"Captain."

He would recognize that voice anywhere. The previously unknown occupant was none other than Lieutenant Uhura.

"Oh hell, I'm sorry, I forgot it was so late. Can we talk, please? In private? It won't take long."

She hesitated a moment before allowing him to pass, the closing door ending all chances of his catching the rest of their conversation.

The revelation gave Spock new evidence toward unraveling the identity of her absentee husband. If she was quartered in the ambassadorial suites rather than the officer's billet than her spouse was most likely a high-ranking Starfleet official, quite possibly even an attaché. No wonder then that he was not currently aboard the _Enterprise_. Spock understood well; his own father had often spent several weeks and months at a time away from his family in the course of his diplomatic service.

Or perhaps…

The Commander shook his head. The Uhura he had known had more integrity than that. She would never stoop so low as to become a Captain's mistress.

Even if her relationship with Kirk was highly unconventional.

* * *

><p>"But you agreed. You <em>promised<em>."

She paced before him, arms crossed over her belly.

Jim nodded. "I know but I don't think it's in his best interest to keep him in the dark anymore."

"You can't do that!"

"With all due respect, _Lieutenant_, I can."

Nyota stopped and stared. If Kirk was pulling rank he was serious and she couldn't let him unravel things now. Spock was in a good place, she could handle this for their sake, just… "Please," she pleaded. "Don't."

The Captain sighed and hung his head. "This is an impossible position…you know that, right?" Did he not see how she struggled through each shift to do what was right for Spock? "And you know I don't like no-win scenarios."

She stepped over and placed a hand on his shoulder, almost as if in benediction. "I have faith in you; you and Len _and _Spock." With a wan smile and false cheer she added, "Try 39 is bound to work, right?"

He looked up at her with those eyes—sky blue but with the depth of oceans—only this time instead of overwhelming confidence they were full of skepticism. "Well maybe this time your faith's unfounded." Jim jumped up and strode to the window, turning his back on her to watch the stars race by. "Nothing's working. Bones is grasping at straws and I hate to say it but I'm out of ideas too. And have you even thought about what you'll do after the kid's born?" The intensity in his gaze when he looked at her again was frightening. "What'll you tell Spock then? Or are you hoping he'll overlook the pointed ears and slanted brows? Maybe he'll deny it right up until the day the kid starts saying 'logic'."

Truth be told she _had _considered the possibility of what she might do when the baby was born; she'd considered it a thousand times, and each time she came back with an unsatisfactory answer. Each night she prayed that it wouldn't come to that.

Sighing, he folded his arms across his chest and turned around. "Ny, don't you think it'll be more of a shock for him when he sees his name on the birth certificate?"

"I'd tell him before it came to that…"

"Would you? Would you really? Because this kid needs a father just as much as a mother!"

James T. Kirk was many things but he was not one to raise his voice in anger, especially to a friend. Nyota froze in the middle of the room and stared at him hard trying to figure out what _really_ brought this spate of doubt on. "Jim?"

"'You of all people should understand the perils of being born in space.'"

Oh. Oh no. She recognized the Spock speak straight away. "Jim, he didn't mean it…"

"I know that," he said brusquely, brushing her hand aside. She didn't believe him and judging by his closed off body language neither did he. "But that doesn't change facts. This baby is going to have aunts and uncles aplenty but he or she is also going to need _both_ parents—I can't stress that enough."

She reached forward and clasped his hands in both of hers. "And he—or _she_—will have that; Spock just needs a little more time."

_We all just need more time…I hope…_

* * *

><p><strong>AN 2: **Hi all. I'll keep this brief. I quit my job recently and am going back to school; I was supposed to be out celebrating with friends tonight and things took a turn for the unexpected/unpleasant. I'm ok now (my friends are ok), but let's just say that it's all left me quite shaken. With that said I know I have some people that simply HATE the plot of this story...and while I've appreciated the constructive criticism and respected their opinions I am in no mood to entertain any more of it right now. So please, if you don't have anything nice to say just don't say it at all. Next chapter you may feel free to unload but right now...right now just please keep it to yourself. I'm sorry and thanks for your understanding. ~Wahoogal


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **Thanks everyone for the reviews as well as the kind words. I'm feeling better and a lot of it is due to you. As a sort of thank you to you I'm going to post Chapter 10 today and Chapter 11 tomorrow—also I'm too excited to share them to hold onto them any longer. I hope you all enjoy the story and thanks again for everything!

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_**, Stardate 2261.126, 0948 hours. **He woke up on the floor in a daze, ears ringing and staring at the back of a blurry pair of regulation boots. The acrid smell of smoldering metal filled his nostrils and for a split-second he forgot where he was.

Then the world came crashing right back down on top of him.

The ship lurched starboard and unable to get a hold of anything Kirk slid across the deck in a heap. Looking over the bridge he saw Rand and Zurbrigg go flying too, the latter unconscious, and Chekov was clutching his post with a trail of blood snaking down his cheek. Everyone else had a death grip on their consoles and hard looks on their faces as they manned their stations.

Good. If the Gorn wanted a fight then they'd get a fight; his people were ready.

"Mr. Spock, report!"

Jim struggled to his feet and his left leg buckled; that's when he noticed the jagged piece of metal jutting obscenely out his calf. Using the chair for support he hauled himself upright, ignoring the injury.

"Damage reports coming in from Decks 12 through 17." The Commander looked again to the read-outs. "Twenty-one reported injuries but no casualties."

_Score one for the home team._ "Mr. Sulu, take evasive action."

"Thrusters were the first things hit, Captain. I can only take us forward on impulse."

"I am really starting to hate these guys…"

"Incoming!" cried Chekov.

"Brace for impact!"

Being prepared didn't make the hit any harder to take and Jim nearly slid off his chair again, pushing the shrapnel deeper into the muscle. A cry from behind made him turn to find Uhura flat on her keester; aside from the fact she'd been thrown from her seat the only thing that appeared to be damaged was her pride. Still, he wasn't about to take any chances with her and the baby. "Stay there!"

Facing the view screen where the enemy ship loomed he whipped out his communicator. "Scotty!"

"Aye, Sir!" The hiss/clang of metal and frantic shouts of engineers were the only signs that anything was amiss down there.

"We need thrusters up here!"

"I'm workin' on it, Cap'n!"

"Workin' on it isn't good enough right now!"

"Right…"

He watched another round of enemy fire being discharged. "Fire torpedoes!"

All but one of the shots aimed at them were deflected and the bridge shook violently on impact. "Shields at 33%," his First announced coolly.

Sometimes Jim really hated that unflappable Vulcan demeanor.

"Thank you, Mr. Spock."

"Captain, if I can just get through their jamming signal we may be able to negotiate a ceasefire or at least contact Starfleet…"

He turned around to see his Comm. Officer attempting to get to her feet. "I said sit your ass down, Lieutenant!" She scowled but cooperated. Jim looked out the view screen once more. Despite all the havoc it was wreaking the Gorn vessel looked relatively small compared to the _Enterprise_. "Chekov, how big would you say that ship is?"

"Keptin?"

"The _Enterprise _is what five, six times bigger?"

The young Russian's eyes narrowed on the enemy ship before turning back to the Captain. "I vould say ze _Enterprise_ is approximately three and a half times larger, Sir."

Jim swiveled his head toward the pilot, mindful of another at attack any second. "Which way would they roll?"

Sulu crinkled his brow uncomprehendingly. "Sir?"

Really, all he needed was a simple answer…though now he kind of got why Spock hated rhetorical questions. "If you were being charged head on by a ship three times your size which way would you roll?"

Again, the pilot looked out the view screen before back to his captain. "If it were me I'd roll right; then again I'm right handed. If the pilot were a leftie…" understanding slowly dawned. "Captain, are you really suggesting what I _think_ you're suggesting?"

Without looking back he called to his First. "Where are they most vulnerable, Mr. Spock?"

His response was immediate, graphics thrown up on the view screen overlapping the enemy ship. "There is a flaw in C-Class vessels of Gorn design prior to the 2258 upgrades that may give us an advantage. Shielding is minimal in the aft section of the ship 1.3 meters above the exhaust flap. At this juncture is located a cluster of wire networks that, if interrupted, would simultaneously disable their engines and their weapon systems. Assuming this vessel pre-dates the upgrades to correct for the defect that would be their weakest point and our best hope for mounting an offensive."

Ok, they could do this. "Chekov, I want you to get ready to lock onto that spot. The minute they show their belly I want you to fire, you hear me?"

"Yes, Keptin."

"Are you seriously proposing we play _chicken_ with our shields barely holding at…" Uhura paused to look at the nearest monitor, "…25%, communications jammed and thrusters off-line?" she asked incredulously.

"Hells yes!" Sulu cheered, causing Jim to smirk.

"What if they call your bluff?"

He ignored her and focused on the task at hand. "On my mark, Mr. Sulu."

"While I do not comprehend the origin of the phrase 'chicken', given the context I must lodge a protest against your implicit course of…"

"Spock?"

His First instantly stopped. "Yes, Captain?"

"Shut up." He nodded at the pilot. "Punch it!" He turned on the ship-wide comm. "Attention all decks, this is the Captain speaking. Brace for impact." _This better work!_

The Gorn charged their weapons the same instant Sulu gunned what was left of the engines; no matter how many times Jim saw him in action he was always in awe of how his pilot commanded the ship. With deadly speed and accuracy he aimed straight at the enemy's hull and after a split second's confusion the rogue ship rolled to port—where Chekov dealt the crippling blow to their engines and weapons.

A small cheer went 'round the bridge and once he was satisfied that the threat was neutralized and they were a safe distance away Jim hauled himself up to his feet. Much as he hated the prospect of facing Bones it'd be worse for him if he waited, plus he knew he had to set an example for the crew, especially Uhura, who probably wouldn't go down to sickbay without a fight. Glancing over at the science station he met Spock's eye and saw the same concern Jim felt mirrored there. With a slight nod he rose and turned toward his pilot. "Mr. Sulu, you have the Con.

"Chekov, Rand, Uhura, you're with me. Let's get Zurbrigg down to Medical, shall we?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.127, 0317 hours. **The battle had been sudden, intense and decisive, and although the threat was quickly dealt with the internal clean-up and repairs necessary to get the _Enterprise _running smoothly again were extensive; which was why 17.3 hours after he first went on-shift Spock returned to his quarters covered in soot, his hair askew and his uniform torn, and surveyed the damage done to his personal living space.

His ka'athyra case had been thrown clear across the room and now rested against the base of the stasis unit. The floor was littered with books and holoimages that had not been properly clamped down and the view screen of his comm. was cracked. Stepping carefully around the litter he picked his way toward the bedroom; there the sheets and pillows had gone flying off the bed and inexplicably the entire contents of his closet had been dumped out as well.

Despite the chaotic appearance nothing of importance was irreparably damaged and Spock quickly went about setting the room to rights.

He straightened the IDIC on the wall and re-ordered the books. He picked up the ka'athyra and pulled it out of it's case, plucking several chords and reassuring himself that the instrument was indeed undamaged. His mother's picture he found under a sofa pillow and held in his hands a few seconds longer than necessary, lingering on the wide grin on her face before returning it to it's place of honor on the shelf.

He had been so preoccupied as of late—first in the daily administration of his duties on the ship, then in quashing his feelings for Lieutenant Uhura—that the grief of his loss snuck up on him. Placing the cushions back on the couch he sat and ordered his thoughts, acknowledging his sadness and lingering guilt over her death before calling up more pleasant recollections of the years he had had with her. Spock was grateful that his mother had been a human woman for had she been Vulcan he would not have memories of her smiles to help bolster his spirits whenever his mood dipped low.

As his equilibrium returned Spock turned his efforts toward the bedroom. Straightening and tucking in the sheets with military precision he attacked the pile of clothing on the floor, grasping his formal Vulcan robes off the top of the wrinkled heap and shaking them out. A small frame tumbled out of the folds of fabric and landed upside down at his feet. Curious, he picked the object up and turned it over, uncovering a holoimage that upset the tenuous hold he had on his emotions.

It was an image of himself and Lieutenant Uhura back when they were still at the Academy. The banner in the background read 'Sukow Convention - 2257'. Spock was familiar with the yearly xenolinguistic gathering but did not recall his attendance that year; it was from the time he was missing. Apparently he had been present and with him was his prize pupil imparting her work to the assembly.

The angle of the image suggested it had been taken by someone standing off to the side of the raised dais—most likely a member of the Press. Though the background was out of focus Spock could make out a sizeable portion of the group giving Lieutenant Uhura a standing ovation. In the foreground stood the two of them, him at attention with eyes focused on the assembly while she stood equally straight at his side, holding a PADD and beaming. She was gazing up at him with a look of unbridled joy.

_Cadet Uhura bounced up and down on the balls of her feet backstage, occasionally wiping her sweaty palms down the side of her dress uniform skirt. If the light sheen on her cheeks was any indication Spock believed she was also nauseous._

_"Calm yourself, Cadet."_

_Her laugh was short and mirthless. "I'm afraid that's easier said than done, Commander. I keep thinking about all the questions they could ask me and all the ways this could jeopardize my chances of getting on the _Enterprise _if they think I'm a quack." _

_Spock turned to study her quizzically. "I am unfamiliar with your usage of the sounds ascribed to the common Terran Anas platyrhincos; however,_ _your research on the evolution of the eighty polyguttural dialects of the Klingon language is currently without parallel in the Federation. Barring any unforeseen events the presentation will be well received by those in attendance."_

_She smiled but said nothing, opting instead to repeat her opening statement under her breath like a chant. It occurred to him that the sheer volume of the crowd and not the quality of her work was what had her discomfited._

_"If you are anxious about facing such a large assembly perhaps I can offer you some assistance."_

_"Sir?"_

_"My mother has often said that when she is about to give a speech she prefers to picture the audience wearing nothing but their undergarments. The notion is illogical, yet it appears to have helped her a great deal over the years as she has successfully presented many of her theories on teaching throughout the Federation."_

_This time the smile on Cadet Uhura's face was genuine. "I don't think I could picture __all__ of the audience members in their underwear. If memory serves the Coridans don't wear undergarments, period." She giggled and he watched with a mixture of pride and pleasure as the tension eased out of her shoulders, grateful to have helped ease her burden. If it were not so improper he would have reached out and gently stroked the back of her hand._

_A Starfleet official wearing a headset poked his head around the corner. "Commander? Cadet? You're on."_

He had been awake for 31.45 hours now. Was he so sleep-deprived that he was dreaming while awake? Spock looked down at the holoimage still in his hands. On the opposite end of the dais was the young man in the headset who had ushered them on-stage.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.126, 2158 hours. **Nyota slipped off her boots and curled up on the sofa, snatching a blanket and pillow off the floor. Len had insisted on checking her out (once Kirk let it slip she'd fallen from her chair during the attack) and between the wait in sickbay and the repairs she'd had to oversee in the lab she was practically dead on her feet. Everything in her room was a mess but at the moment she just couldn't care.

"Computer, play New Vulcan Philharmonic Orchestra - Disc 1, starting with track 8. Put entire disc on repeat until otherwise instructed."

"Acknowledged."

The musical selection had been a birthday gift from her father-in-law and the kolchak* solo by the famed T'Daris was among her favorites. Spock once remarked that he was grateful he only played the ka'athyra otherwise she might've made him re-play the piece on command or until his fingers went numb—or most likely both.

God how she missed his teasing.

Closing her eyes she decided a few minutes rest was needed before she could drag herself up and make everything 'ship-shape' again…

Nyota blinked awake at the insistent chime. "Imup," she muttered. A quick look at her chronometer showed over five hours had passed and whoever was knocking at her door simply wasn't letting up. Thinking it was most likely McCoy being a mother hen she grumbled, "I thought you said you didn't make house…"

"Lieutenant," Spock said, inclining his head.

"Commander," she gasped.

"I apologize for the late hour but I have a matter of great import that I must discuss with you." Her heart stopped. Had he remembered? What else would send him her way at three in the morning?

When she said nothing nor moved aside he asked, "May I enter?"

"Sorry! Of course, please." Nyota stepped back. "Forgive the mess; I haven't had a chance to clean up yet."

He carefully picked his way to the middle of the room, avoiding the overturned candy dish, PADDs and bottles of nail polish, to stand with his hands clasped tightly behind his back and fingers clenching. Whatever was on his mind obviously left him feeling troubled; Nyota gulped and felt her knees go weak at the implications. Shakily she sat back down on the couch.

"You were saying, Sir?"

"Yes. I must ask you about your recollections of the Sukow Convention of November 19, 2257."

Well. _That_ certainly came out of left field, even for someone like Spock. "The Sukow Convention?"

He angled his body toward her again and quirked his head. She knew how annoyed he got having to repeat himself. "Yes, the Sukow Convention, Lieutenant."

"What about it?"

"You presented a paper at the conference that year, did you not? On the evolution of the eighty polyguttural dialects of the Klingon language?"

Nyota frowned. All of this information was part of her Starfleet record; he could've just accessed the database instead of seeking her out after such a long day. Come to think of it, how _did_ Spock know where she was? Her temporary room assignment wasn't part of the official ship's logs; Kirk and McCoy both agreed it was best to keep the severity of Spock's condition off the Admiralty's radar until they themselves had time to sort it all out. "Yes, that was the paper I presented."

Spock turned and paced a few steps away before coming to a halt and facing her again. "Did we or did we not converse backstage prior to your introduction?"

Again she gasped and felt that same flutter in her heart.

_She was either going to head for the hills or barf all over his nice black boots—or both. She was so nervous she couldn't stand still and her grip on her PADD was the only thing keeping her hands from trembling, even as it threatened to slip out of her sweaty palms._

_"Calm yourself, Cadet."_

_What an order. Only he could say something like that and expect her to obey. She managed to stop bouncing around and bark out a laugh. "I'm afraid that's easier said than done, Commander. I keep thinking about all the questions they could ask me and all the ways this could jeopardize my chances of getting on the _Enterprise _if they think I'm a quack." _

_She knew before he even opened his mouth that he wouldn't know what she was talking about. "I am unfamiliar with your usage of the sounds ascribed to the common Terran Anas platyrhincos; however,_ _your research on the evolution of the eighty polyguttural dialects of the Klingon language is currently without parallel in the Federation. Barring any unforeseen events the presentation will be well received by those in attendance."_

_Oh if only she could borrow his superior self-confidence for the next, say, thirty minutes or so. Instead she quietly recited her opening statement; it wouldn't bode well if she got tongue-tied now._

_"If you are anxious about facing such a large assembly," he said seemingly out of the blue, "Perhaps I can offer you some assistance."_

_Assistance? "Sir?"_

_"My mother has often said that when she is about to give a speech she prefers to picture the audience wearing nothing but their undergarments. The notion is illogical, yet it appears to have helped her a great deal over the years as she has successfully presented many of her theories on teaching throughout the Federation."_

_Just picturing Lady Amanda imparting this wisdom on her young son made her laugh. "I don't think I could picture __all__ of the audience members in their underwear. If memory serves the Coridans don't wear undergarments, period." She smiled up at him and the look that he gave in response was a mixture of amusement and pride; it made her feel all warm and tingly inside to be on the receiving end of it._

"Yes," she uttered, finding her voice at last.

"And did you or did you not compare yourself to the Terran Ana platyrhincos?"

"You remember." It wasn't a question but it came out like one. If his memories were coming back then there was still a chance that he knew what he meant to her—or what she meant to him.

"It would appear that I do indeed possess some memories of my life prior to the away mission on Anguillida. I must consult with Doctor McCoy to understand the full scope of my recovery." Spock stopped and listened to the music still streaming out of the speakers; she forgot she'd even left it playing.

"I was unaware that you appreciated classical Vulcan music."

_If you only knew, _she thought, biting back the retort on her tongue. Nyota didn't want to talk about the music, she wanted to know what else he remembered, but forced herself to answer anyway. "Yes, I do."

"You may want to consider the works of the flautist T'Daris, particularly her solo in 'Ode to A'rie'mnu'*. I am told that many humans find it an evocative as well as entertaining selection despite the misleading title."

She closed her eyes to blink back the tears. 'Ode to A'rie'mnu' was her much-beloved track 8. "Thank you for the recommendation, Commander. I'll look into it."

Spock studied her a moment more, watching her as if she were on the verge of collapse. He'd been doing that ever since she fainted on the bridge even though he physically kept his distance. She suspected it was because he thought she preferred it that way. How wrong he was. "I will leave you to your rest now. Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome." He insisted she remain seated even as she rose to show him out. Another moment later and he was gone as suddenly as he appeared.

Of all the things to remember only that one insignificant moment stuck. Nyota was devastated beyond words. What a meaningless thing for him to recall when all the important moments in their lives were forgot.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.131, 1835 hours. **McCoy held the flimsy paper up to the light and she smiled; he was her old fashioned country doctor on a starship. Of all the physicians she'd ever known Len was the only one who still liked having film copies of his x-rays and neural scans. Beside her Kirk smiled as if he'd just read her thoughts.

"Well I can tell you this much for sure," he announced. "His short term memory is definitely improving. Of all the tests Geoff and I've put him through the last couple of days he's only made 6 noticeable slips—that's a 30% improvement from before."

"That's good, right?" Jim asked, striving and failing to keep the hope out of his voice.

"Of course it's good; hell, it's great! It means he's getting his house in order up here," he replied, pointing to his temple for emphasis. Then the Doctor waved the scan in front of their faces like a flag. "And this here is good news too; some of the old neural pathways are being re-formed. It isn't much—fact, I almost missed it—but it's something. It explains why he seems to be remembering tidbits of his past, although there's no predictable pattern to the re-growth that we're seeing."

"So what you're saying is that's why he remembers standing backstage with me at the Sukow Convention but nothing else?" she finally asked.

"Yep. Could be that somethin' about that moment in particular stuck out to him."

Beside her Kirk snorted and looked pointedly at her stomach. "I'm sure I could think of a couple other more significant moments than a xenolinguistics conference four years ago."

Nyota rolled her eyes at his innuendo. "Try a couple _hundred_." Jim guffawed and Len looked at them like they were both a couple of idiots.

"There's only one problem," he said interrupting the pair. _Of course there is_. Bracing herself for the worst Nyota slyly gripped the armrests. "We don't really have an accurate way of differentiating between what Spock _knows_ and what he actually _remembers_."

_Come again?_

"Uh, Bones?"

Len rolled his eyes. "I know it sounds like a contradiction but it isn't. Vulcans typically have eidetic memories, and given the way Spock studied up on his past after he was released it's difficult to tell how much he recalls firsthand versus how much he remembers from studying; and even _he's_ having a hard time telling the two apart."

Nyota furrowed her brow. "How could he not know which is which?"

Len quietly replied, "He says it's because he's been dreaming."

Oh. Feeling sheepish on Spock's behalf she looked away from the men as the blush rose to her cheeks. He rarely dreamt and when he did he never liked to admit to it, even to her…so for him to tell the Doctor he must've really been concerned. "Nyota, all I'm asking is that you to talk to him and help us suss out what's real and what isn't."

She recoiled at the thought. "What? Why me?"

Kirk shot her the 'Duh' look. "Why else do you think? Bones and I've looked over the rosters and aside from a handful of former students there's no one on the _Enterprise _who had anything more than a passing acquaintance with him back then. Besides, who else knows Spock better than you?"

Before she could object Len added, "You really are the only one that can help him. Just look at that whole bit about the conference; if it weren't for you confirmin' that duck remark he probably would've gone on thinkin' he was hallucinatin'."

Her eyes bugged out of her head; that was wildly different from dreaming. "He thought he was hallucinating?"

"Well he has been under a fair amount of strain…"

Jim jabbed his friend hard in the ribs. "What I think Bones is _trying_ to say is that it'd really mean a lot to Spock's recovery if you'd help out with this. It sounds like there's a lot of details only you could catch."

_"…who else knows him better…"_

_"…thought he was hallucinating…"_

_"…has been under…strain…"_

Perhaps Spock wasn't as well off as she thought, despite appearances to the contrary. Still, she didn't know if she was strong enough to handle sitting with him and reminiscing over old times as if there wasn't more between them. She might just break down and only confuse the issue more with her tears.

"I have it on good authority he's reading in Rec Room 7 right now," Kirk said, interrupting her reverie with a wink and a smile. "If you hurry you might catch him."

No. She couldn't. Could she? Perhaps if she treated them like the professor and student they once were… "Actually," she replied with a far-off look in her eye, "I need to head back to my room first." The twin looks of disappointment on their faces were difficult to miss. "But don't worry, I'll talk to him."

* * *

><p>He waited until he was sure she was well on her way before addressing his friend. "What the hell, Bones? <em>Hallucinating<em>? _Strain_? I thought we just wanted to try and set the two of 'em back up, not scare her into early labor…"

McCoy grimaced as he sank into his seat. "I wish I was lyin' but it's true. I've been seein' the signs he's been under stress for a while but didn't see a point in worryin' anyone just yet since he seemed to have it well under control. Besides, he wouldn't listen to me and you and we'd just be talkin' ourselves in circles like we were when he was tryin' to get back on duty."

That made Jim take notice. Spock had been back at work for over two months and he hadn't noticed anything different other than the more formal and reticent attitude. What did Bones see that he didn't?

"The tiredness and more recently some more weight loss. If he isn't locked up in meditation he's been spending upwards of three hours a night in the gym, I've checked the logs. Something's obviously been on his mind and I think it's her. His fear that he's been hallucinatin' is only the most recent symptom." Looking up across the desk at him the Doctor added, "You didn't see it because you didn't want to, Jim. We all wish he were back to his old self and in spite of the progress he's made it's time for us to face facts; maybe this is the new 'normal' for Spock and we all just have to get used to it."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.131, 1907 hours. **It took her six months as his TA and a trip to the grocery store with Gaila for Nyota to realize she'd been trying to seduce her professor with tea…and found she'd rather been seduced _by_ him instead.

_"Face it, Ny," Gaila said, her voice husky and low. They'd been standing in front of the row of herbal blends for ten minutes now trying to make a selection but she couldn't decide which one Commander Spock would like best. She needed something different for Monday. Perhaps the one with a hint of cinnamon…? _

_"You're doing this not just 'cause you both love tea but 'cause you __really__ love watching Commander Hot Stuff's hands! You just want to watch him flex those fingers and imagine them touching you and curving around your…"_

_"GAILA!"_

_"What! Like I said, he's HOT! And you, my friend, have __great__ taste. If it weren't against regs to date a professor…mmm, mmm, yummy…"_

She'd stopped her friend mid-verbal orgasm not only out of embarrassment but also from shock. It was true, she'd always been turned on by Spock's hands—had been fascinated by them really—but she'd never thought of their tea ritual as a means of mutual seduction. She just knew they both derived a great deal of pleasure trying a new blend and chatting over a cup; it took Gaila to point out to her why.

Now, pouring the brew into the thermos she reached for the parenting journal and headed for Rec Room 7.

* * *

><p>The scent of ginger wafted in from the doorway as Lieutenant Uhura stepped through, thermos and PADD in hand. Barely lifting his eyes from his reports Spock took a deep inhalation of the spicy, exotic scent and unobtrusively watched her navigate the floor. She stopped here and there, pausing to chat with friends and accept their congratulations. Yeoman Rand was granted permission to rub her stomach.<p>

Spock quickly tamped down the growl he felt rising in the back of his throat. Concerned about making a scene he turned his eyes back to his work.

"May I join you, Commander?"

She had surprised him with the request, and when he glanced up into her glowing face he was not entirely certain the smile she wore was for him; yet he knew he would not be able to refuse her. "Of course." Spock rose and pulled out a chair, waiting for her to settle in before resuming his own seat. She said nothing more but rather spent a full 14.32 minutes reading intently from her PADD. Her silence distracted him more than any chatter and he wondered what had so captured her attention when she reached over to uncap the thermos.

"Oh shoot!" The Lieutenant turned to him in frustration. "I forgot to bring a mug."

"Allow me to retrieve one for you," he replied, already moving to the sideboard before she could protest.

"Only if you'll join me."

His stride stuttered and his eyebrow rose sharply.

_"I'm not avoiding you…"_

_"If you are suggesting that I am shunning you socially…"_

_"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!"_

_"Only if you'll join me."_

He had heard of the severe disparities in behavior of k'kan* women but Lieutenant Uhura was doing a complete about-face. As if interpreting human behavior as colored by emotion was not baffling enough for him now he had this added layer of complication to deal with. Deciding it would be in his best interest not to debate the point he brought two white mugs to the table as per her request.

"Thank you."

Spock watched entranced as she took hold of the thermos, her slender wrist curving gracefully in time to dispense the warm, spicy brew into his cup without spilling a drop. She made pouring tea into an art form and he speculated as to whether that was her aim or simply her natural state of being. He felt the all-too-familiar heat rise within him and struggled not to tenderly stroke the back of her hand and test if their touch would be as electric as he predicted.

When she finished the Lieutenant gripped her mug in both hands and brought it to her face, inhaling the bouquet of clove, ginger and cardamom before taking a small sip. This time when she smiled her pleasure was obvious. He took his own test sip and was satisfied with the palatable result, the rich tastes coating his tongue both foreign and familiar.

"It's my mother's brew," she explained without prompting. "Her own mix of spiced black chai. She sends me a canister almost every month."

Spock nodded and took another sip to savor the tea. Looking about she dipped her head toward him. "Commander," she said in a low voice. "The Doctor says you think you're remembering things from before, back when we were at the Academy. He asked me…"

Ahhh, so it was in favor to Doctor McCoy that she was currently seeking out his company. He should have anticipated this possibility sooner. The mug hit the table with more force than he intended. "Thank you, Lieutenant, but you need not involve yourself in this matter if it is—" he cast about for the right word, suddenly uncertain as to what to say, "—distasteful to you. I apologize for having previously drawn you in. The state of my mental health is not of your concern."

* * *

><p>Nyota watched in amusement as he tried to hide his fascination with her mother's tea, and she had to bite back a laugh at the almost-smile in his eyes when he took his first sip. It was why Mama forgave them for bonding on New Vulcan instead of marrying in a traditional African ceremony; not only did she know how much it meant to Spock but because he was so appreciative of her fine cuisine she was instantly won over by her new son-in-law. Nyota thought that tasting it again might help jog his memory but he looked like he was trying it for the first time.<p>

"It's my mother's brew. Her own mix of spiced black chai. She sends me a canister almost every month." _With an extra container just for you._

He considered the information thoughtfully and his dexterous fingers wrapped a little more possessively around the cup. She knew he appreciated it even if he didn't say the words.

"Commander." She stopped herself short when she realized she was about to take hold of his wrist. "The Doctor says you think you're remembering things from before, back when we were at the Academy. He asked me if I could help you figure out which memories were true ones."

Nyota knew she'd lost him the moment she mentioned McCoy; his whole posture changed and his expression was distant, almost angry. Even his voice was colder and it chilled her to the core. "Thank you, Lieutenant, but you need not involve yourself in this matter if it is—distasteful to you. I apologize for having previously drawn you in. The state of my mental health is not of your concern."

_YES IT IS! _she wanted to scream. _I WANT MY HUSBAND BACK!_

It occurred to her as he dismissed her that she'd created this distance; that it was her own fault he was rejecting her now. If she hadn't been trying so hard to spare her own feelings she would've seen that, as his friend, she was hurting his.

"Please, Spock," she said, reverting to Vulkhansu to try and _make_ him listen. "I want to help you. Please let me help you."

Those warm cocoa eyes she so loved came back to life.

* * *

><p>She stopped breathing—why had she stopped breathing? And the serious frown she wore deepened as her hand clenched into a fist. He was releasing her from her obligation so why was she upset? He was the one who should be insulted if he ever deigned to feel such a thing; he never wanted to become an object of pity. Spock returned to his work to distract him from her distress; if she cried he would be forced to do something unseemly, like wipe away her tears.<p>

"Sanu, Spokh. Ki'aitlun mamuk du. Sanu kaltor t'nash mamuk du."

His heart stopped. That voice had a hold over him like none other in the universe…and he would never admit to it, _could_ never admit to it. If he refused her now he might very well lose his mind from the missed opportunity; if he accepted he might lose it as well, having her so near without any possibility of being able to possess her. The Lieutenant turned away, her neck exposed as if in invitation…

"Ha*."

Her head whipped around so fast he was concerned she might experience whiplash. "Ha?"

Even in Vulkhansu she exhibited the human compulsion to repeat things. It was an..._endearing_ quirk. Spock nodded again. "Ha."

Now that the decision had been made each fell silent. Looking down at the lukewarm mug cradled in his hands he thought to ask, "Have I ever had the opportunity of tasting this unique blend of tea before?"

She smiled and uncapped the thermos again, re-filling his mug without prompting. "Yes, you have. The first time was back at the Academy. We both discovered we liked tea but it wasn't until my senior year that I thought to bring in Mama's blend for you to try…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.164, 1906 hours. **He sat at what had quickly become their table waiting expectantly for Lieutenant Uhura. The memories she shared captivated him, and while he had little if anything to contribute he appreciated the time she took to tell the tales all the same. Tonight he would show her his gratitude with a gift for her child.

The doors opened and she strode in, head held high and stomach jutting out proudly before her. She was negotiating her way to his side when Ensign Chekov approached her with a question. Spock watched unobserved as she listened intently then broke out into a grin and took both his hands and positioned them on her belly. The Ensign leaned in close, murmured to the infant, then straightened up blushing profusely and stammering as he ran for the door.

"Good evening, Commander!"

Lieutenant Uhura was beaming when she finally took her seat. Whatever the young ensign had done had clearly pleased her to no end. In light of this response his gift suddenly seemed inadequate. He would present it to her at another time.

"Lieutenant."

Spock tried to discreetly get the figurine off the table but he was not quick enough for her observant gaze. "Say, what've you got there?"

"It is nothing." He dropped the toy to his lap and the look she shot him would serve to admonish even the Captain for such an obvious falsehood. "It is…"

"A sehlat*!" she exclaimed as he presented the gift for her inspection. Examining it in detail she asked, "Is this what I-Chaya looked like?"

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "How do you know of I-Chaya?"

* * *

><p>She was late for her meeting with Spock—not that they'd ever set a time but it quickly became the norm for them to meet around 1900 hours unless there was a work emergency. As Nyota walked in she met his eye and got the warm tinglies all over. It was good knowing that they could still be friends; the baby would need that as it got older if Spock's memory problems went unresolved and he ultimately decided he did not want to re-forge the bond. There were many things about Vulcan culture she didn't know and couldn't teach and she would need him to guide their son or daughter in the right direction.<p>

Still, Nyota hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Nyota?"

She shook herself out of her worried musings and looked at her friend. "Chekov! What's up?"

"I…" he blushed and stammered, twisting his hands this way and that as he struggled to spit out the words. It was hard to believe he had as much responsibility as he did being as young as he was but there wasn't anybody else she trusted more at the helm than him and Sulu. "You see, in my family there ees a blessing ve give to the baby and I vas vondering…vould you permit me? You do not haf to say yes, eet ees ok, I just thought…"

It looked like he'd been trying to screw up his courage to do this for awhile now. "Of course you may!" she exclaimed, overwhelmed by all the love and support she was getting from the crew. Reaching for his hands she placed them on her stomach and he leaned over her, muttering in Russian.

"Little One, may you find peace, love and happiness wherever you go, all the days of your long life."

"Pavel, that was beautiful."

The spell was broken and the nervous kid-genius returned. "Da, I…" his eyes darted around the room, "I haf to go."

"Of course. And thank you." Nyota let go of his hands and he bolted, making her chuckle at his hasty exit.

She reached her seat next to Spock without further incident, still glowing from Pavel's prayer. "Good evening, Commander!"

"Lieutenant."

His tone more than anything else caught her attention; that and the way he was trying to unobtrusively remove something from the table. Last week he brought a book of Vulcan poetry to share with her and it wasn't until he was mid-way through the third verse that he recalled having introduced her to the piece before.

It was funny the things he remembered; a lunch spent dining with her in the Academy cafeteria; a walk across the quad on their way to open up the lab. There was no rhyme or reason for it so far as she could see and the memories were more like fleeting glimpses than hard, impermeable facts. All in all they were rather insignificant. The one constant was that none of Spock's memories touched upon time shortly before, during, or after Vulcan was destroyed; the closest he came was a random afternoon about a month before the emergency distress signal was received at HQ—everything after that was a blank, including the two of them.

"Say, what've you got there?"

"It is nothing." Nyota frowned. He was lying and he never lied to her, not before. Shooting him a glare normally reserved for Kirk she watched him hedge around the subject until he finally lifted his hands. "It is…"

"A sehlat!" She picked up the offered trinket that Spock had obviously carved with his own two hands and she was amazed by all the effort he'd put in. The grooved detail for the fur was remarkable and he'd even gone and added a tan, fluffy, fabric tail for more realism. He'd told her stories of his pet but she'd never seen pictures; they were lost on Vulcan. Before she could stop herself she asked, "Is this what I-Chaya looked like?"

Spock stiffened and she knew she'd overstepped. The sehlat's sacrifice was the reason he was alive but it was information he didn't share with just anybody. "How do you know of I-Chaya?"

_"Commander, I'm still not sure why you asked me here," she said as they walked behind the first-year Vulcan language students at the San Francisco Zoo._

_"As it was you who suggested this outing to enhance the cadet's language skills I thought it best you be here to supervise." _

_Nyota smirked as they entered the newest exhibit and the basis of their unorthodox field trip. "It wouldn't also have something to do with the fact that I've talked of nothing else for the last five weeks, right?_

_The Commander stopped and inclined his head. "That may have also factored in to my calculations."_

_She grinned at his teasing and looked ahead at the first corral. "Ohhh, the sehlats!"_

_She'd rushed over to join several of the students milling about the enclosure. The domesticated sehlats were truly majestic beasts, with skin the color of sand that she longed to reach out and stroke despite their having fangs the size of her fist. Together they watched the five creatures romp around until someone from the group called to the other cadets, hailing them toward the kushel* display; as they moved off she felt the Commander come and stand beside her. _

_"You are not interested in viewing the birds?"_

_"No," she replied with a smile as she leaned on the railing. "I'm fine here." Two male sehlats began to tussle, kicking up dirt. "They're beautiful, aren't they?"_

_"There is a certain aesthetic quality to the creatures, I will admit." _

_An updraft carried his scent into the open pen. All five animals turned their heads as one and rushed to get closer. '_He must remind them of home,_' she thought. Nyota was further awed when he reached across the moat meant to separate them and affectionately rubbed the littlest one on the nose. When he withdrew it immediately set to baying and soon the others picked up it's desolate tune._

_"What happened?" she cried over the sound._

_"They are mourning."_

_"Mourning? Mourning who?"_

_The Commander nodded at the tiny cub he had been petting. "It could not be helped. T'Espera saw how I lost my own pet sehlat as a boy. They are honoring his katra in their way."_

_"You had a pet sehlat?"_

_"I did. His name was I-Chaya. He was my father's before mine."_

_It was indecorous of her to ask but her curiosity got the better of her. "What happened to him?"_

_He took a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back, looking fixedly at a point in the back of the enclosure. "I-Chaya died in my stead, defending me from a le-matya* during my kahs-wan*."_

_She gasped; she couldn't imagine going through such a terrible experience like that and not coming out unscathed. Clearly the memory still affected him to this day if his recent empathic link with the sehlats was any indication._

_"Tushah nash-veh k'odu*." _

_Unthinkingly she reached out and took hold of his hand. _Hurt surprise sadness anger guilt grief wonder awe amazement affection _strummed across her skin at the contact. She was about to pull away when he squeezed her hand back and pushed his gratitude across to her. _

She always thought of that field trip as their first unofficial date. Now though, how to tell Spock that?

"You mentioned him once or twice."

He accepted the white lie with his usual magnanimity. "The figurine is 1/36th of I-Chaya's original size. The fangs and claws have also been sanded down so as to render it safer for a child's use."

* * *

><p>The Lieutenant paused in her examination of the object and looked up at him in surprise. "You made this for the baby?"<p>

Spock nodded. Surely she had not thought he crafted the figurine for her own use? "Initially the object's movement will help foster the child's eyesight; in later months it will be a useful tool in engaging in hand/eye coordination. I have also been made to understand that as a child ages it is encouraged to use such items in imaginary play. While I am unfamiliar with the concept I thought the sehlat would be an appropriate item for such an endeavor."

She was glowing again; it was the only suitable adjective he could ascribe to her current state of being. Lieutenant Uhura cradled the wooden sehlat in her hands as if it were a most precious relic. "Thank you, Commander. Thank you very much."

"Your thanks are not necessary. It is only logical to assist you and the child as much as possible until your husband returns." He rose and headed for the replicators to order up their tea.

* * *

><p>"…it is only logical to assist you and the child as much as possible until your husband returns."<p>

Yes, it was logical…but was it right to keep lying to him? Watching him turn away Nyota had her doubts.

* * *

><p>*kolchak = Vulcan flute<p>

*Ode to A'rie'mnu = Ode to Passion's Mastery (song title made up by me)

*k'kan = pregnant

*ha = Vulkhansu for yes

*sehlat = Vulcan pet, cross between a bear and a dog

*kushel = Vulkhansu for bird

*le-matya = Vulcan animal similar to a cheetah

*kahs-wan = rite of passage undergone by all Vulcans at the age of 7

*Tushah nash-veh k'odu = Vulkhansu for I grieve with thee


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_**, Stardate 2261.167, 0003 hours.** His throbbing hands trembled as he paced. Knocking over the upturned coffee table and chairs in his path Spock stalked the length of the room, his unbridled emotions making him feel like a caged animal. Jade bruises dotted his arms and emerald blood oozed under the white dermaplasts on his palms.

In the background the door chime rang on and on and on…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Meritani Colony<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.166, 1630 hours. **"Where is the Lieutenant?"

Shielding his eyes from the sun Jim looked up into his First's face. He looked as calm and cool as ever, his only concession to the heat being the careful precision with which he rolled up his sleeves, and Jim suspected that had more to do with him wanting to bask in the warmth of the dry weather rather than escape it. Everyone around them was in various states of undress as they'd been unloading supplies and helping set-up equipment on the Meritani colony all afternoon in almost triple digit temperatures; even he tossed off his regulation shirt which was now little more than a sweat-soaked rag. With the sun slowly starting to set everyone was finally getting a reprieve.

Turning away he surveyed the rest of the crew cooling off under the tent, Bones darting around wielding hypos and griping at everyone about the dangers of heat stroke. Jim could easily spot over a dozen lieutenants but knew that none of them were the one Spock sought.

Suddenly he snapped his fingers as he remembered. "She offered to watch the kids since we wouldn't let her do any heavy lifting. I think she said something about taking them to play on the other side of the compound so they wouldn't be underfoot while we helped set-up for the evening meal."

Spock nodded and strode off through the settlement at a brisk clip; it took all Jim had not to chuckle after him.

* * *

><p>The Meritani colony was well into it's third generation and thriving—the children were a testament to that—and she could see why. Although far out in the Beta quadrant everything about Meritani harkened of home. She reveled in the heat and humidity and the dust sticking to her shins; even little Otto, the four—no, <em>four and<em> _a quarter_, she thought with a laugh—year old boy with green eyes and caramel skin who clung to her side like a shadow reminding her of her nephew, Jumoke.

She made a mental note to check in with Mama and Baba later on to help ease her homesickness.

"Nyny!" Otto cried, pointing to the ball coming her way. With one hand supporting her stomach she trotted forward, catching and dribbling the ball between her ankles before spotting Annie on the other end of the field. A mighty kick sent it straight toward the shy girl and in horror Annie kicked it away again—and right into the waiting net for the tying goal.

A chorus of cheers and groans went around the crowd of children.

"Good job," the little boy said, hugging her leg in approval.

She looked down into his face and grinned. "Thank you, Nyuki*."

He giggled uproariously, his laughter infectious. "You're funny, Nyny. Can you stay with us? You can have my top bunk!"

He was so sincere she felt bad saying no. Nyota laughed and rubbed the top of his curly head, gently guiding him back across the field as the older children moved into position again. "I'm afraid I can't. My ship needs me."

The little boy pouted until a new idea struck. "Then can I come too? I can help with the baby! Mama says I'm a big helper!"

Again, how could she say no to that cherubic, wide-eyed face? "And I believe that, Kidogo Nyuki. Maybe in a few years, when you're older, you can join Starfleet and go to the Academy like I did; then maybe we'll be posted on a ship together."

"Really? You promise?"

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "You can do anything you set your mind to."

Otto wrapped his tiny arms around her. "I love you, Nyny."

"I love you too."

She looked up in time to catch Spock observing them from the far corner of the field.

* * *

><p>The herd of children swerved in time with the ball, laughing and shrieking as they raced until one kicked it toward Lieutenant Uhura.<p>

"Nyny!" the small boy at her side alerted her and she graced him with a smile.

Spock recognized that the Lieutenant had a unique way with children, more so than other humans of his acquaintance, and he knew she would be an excellent mother—just like his own mother had been to him. This knowledge reassured him that despite the less-than-ideal circumstances surrounding the child's birth it's life would be a good one.

He was lost in his own thoughts until a high-pitched voice carried on the wind and caught his attention. "Then can I come too? I can help with the baby! Mama says I'm a big helper!"

"And I believe that, Kidogo Nyuki. Maybe in a few years, when you're older, you can join Starfleet and go to the Academy like I did; then maybe we'll be posted on a ship together."

"Really? You promise?"

The Lieutenant leaned over and kissed the top of his head. "You can do anything you set your mind to."

"I love you, Nyny."

"I love you too."

He watched her bend over and return the child's hug. As she straightened up their eyes locked from across the field, sending a pang of regret shooting through his side.

It was almost unfair how a small child had the ability to say so easily that which his Vulcan sensibilities would not allow. Even were she not married he would find it difficult to allude to the sentiments that filled his heart and mind in her presence. With a bond there would be no need to say such things and were the Lieutenant his he would ensure she felt his affection for her everyday better than any dozen languages could ever convey.

Spock watched her take another turn about the field, calling teasingly to the children and jogging after the ball with one hand cradling her abdomen, before he turned on his heel to leave. Despite his exertions he no longer had any appetite for food nor any patience to endure prolonged human company.

He was halfway to the designated beam-up point when he heard the first panicked screams coming from the playing field.

* * *

><p>They were all going to have very big appetites tonight, she was sure of it, just as she knew she would need a very long sonic shower to get all the dust off that they'd managed to kick up. Still, Nyota was more content now than she had been in weeks.<p>

"BAS-ZOUNDS! BAS-ZOUNDS!"

Bas-zounds? Their frightened screams made her turn around and she found herself face-to-face with a pack of Basilisk hounds slowly creeping up on them out of the woods.

This was wrong—this was _all wrong_. She'd read about the creatures in their de-briefing packet; the yellow-eyed, hyena-like predators with the porcupine spikes were native to the area but they were nocturnal. There'd been a few run-ins in the early years of the settlement but now the creatures hardly ever encroached upon the colony's boundaries and never in broad daylight.

_Unless_…

Another look at the pack leader confirmed her suspicions. The Alpha's eyes were blood-shot and he was frothing at the mouth; he was rabid. She took in the children—all running for their lives—only to see Annie frozen on the edge of the field nearest the animals with a wet stain spreading through the crotch of her pants. Nyota knew none of them would make it; the hounds were moving slowly only so they could further terrorize their prey. They had the speed advantage and not a single child there would be able to run fast enough or far enough to make it to the adults in time.

But she could give them that time.

Hurrying toward Annie she broke the girl out of her shock and pushed her in the direction of safety then ran towards the white-painted rocks lining the field, scooping one up and hefting it at the pack. An animal in the rear roared and broke formation to lick his wounds as she drew blood. The rest of the group looked to him then closed ranks, sensing the greater threat she presented and advancing on her with no thought for the fleeing children.

She could tell by the look in the Alpha's eyes that she was going to die; whether it'd be a swift death or slow and painful was anybody's guess. The only thing steeling Nyota's resolve was the knowledge that her sacrifice would save twenty-seven young lives—twenty-eight when she realized Spock would never know the grief of losing a wife and child. Grabbing up another rock she quickly ran a hand over her stomach as the tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry, Mtoto*."

The next hit missed, skittering on the ground near the Alpha's feet, and she could've sworn she saw the creature sneer at her poor aim. All five followed her now as she led them back toward the woods making sure to keep herself between the pack and the children. Scooping up another rock this time she held it fast as little more than a meter separated her from the foul-smelling beasts.

"NYNY!"

Alarmed she looked up to find Otto standing half a field away, his cries drawing the animal's attentions back to the kids.

"NO!" Nyota lunged on the offensive and repeatedly bashed the nearest creature in the skull as hard as she could. "RUN! _**RUN!**_" He darted off, his little legs carrying him away as fast as they could.

The beast she'd bludgeoned swatted back and drew several long angry gashes down the length of her arm. She gnashed her teeth to keep from crying out and held tight to the rock as it slowly turned slick and red with her blood. The group encircled Nyota now and with a cocky grin plastered to his slobbering face the leader howled long and loud, his cries whipping the rest into a drunken frenzy; the beasts, all giddy off the high of the Alpha's illness, jockeyed for position and licked their lips as they eyed their tasty meal.

She couldn't keep an eye on them all and the one behind her latched onto her calf, it's teeth sinking so deep into her leg she thought it hit bone. The pain tore a g-dawful scream from her throat as she fell to her knees trembling with adrenaline and pain; the pack laughed, thinking her beaten, when she kicked back with her good leg and hit him in the windpipe. The blow sent the Bas-zound skittering away and struggling for air.

The group wasn't expecting their meal to fight back and as one they snarled and pounced on her, crushing her on her side with their weight. Desperately she clutched her belly and pounded on the paw of the nearest Bas-zound with her rock, kicking the one at her feet back with all the strength that she had.

A new roar echoed overhead and for a split-second she feared it was the Alpha swooping in for the kill. Closing her eyes tight she felt a great rush of air when suddenly the weight of all three Bas-zounds was lifted. Another deep snarl sounded overhead. The blood and sweat in her eyes made it difficult to see but as she looked up she saw the twilight accentuate two very pointed ears.

* * *

><p>His heart pounded as he approached the throng of children running in a panic awayfrom the playing field <em>without<em> Lieutenant Uhura. Spock stopped the first child, a human boy approximately twelve years of age, and held him fast by the shoulders.

"What is happening?"

"Basilisk hounds," he replied breathlessly, eyes darting over his shoulder in fear. "Six of 'em."

Spock's alarm increased ten-fold as he released the child and sprinted toward the field. The Basilisk hounds were deadly creatures. One would not want to come up against one in the middle of the night let alone an entire pack; it also went against the animal's nature to attack in broad daylight, indicating that something else altogether was wrong.

Soon he came upon the little boy he had seen earlier with the Lieutenant. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stopped and started, trotting back to the field only to stop short and head back in the opposite direction. Spock picked him up under the arms and held the distressed boy an arm's length away as he squirmed for release.

"Lemme go! Gotta help Nyny!" he screamed. "BAS-ZOUNDS! BAS-ZOUNDS!"

"I will assist the Lieutenant. Return to the settlement and alert the other adults to the danger. Go." Given explicit instructions the child was no sooner set on his feet than he sprinted off toward the community center to raise the alarm.

A piercing howl followed by a blood-curdling scream re-directed Spock's attention to the field. Seconds later he was finally within sight of Lieutenant Uhura and found her curled on the ground struggling against the weight of three large animals while a fourth sat back and watched.

In that moment his entire field of vision turned red and a millennia's old urge was awakened.

"**AAAARRRRRR!**"

Spock grabbed the beasts by the scruff of their necks and tossed them away, searing pain shooting up his arms as he tore the sensitive flesh of his hands. Crouched in defense he placed himself between her and the creatures with a warning snarl emitting from the back of his throat. The remnants of the pack he slung off fell behind the leader while the Alpha sized him up; Spock could see the madness in his eyes and knew the creature was ill.

The tense stand-off lasted less than a second before each lunged at the other, the Alpha pulling himself up on two feet to try and bowl Spock over while sinking his teeth into his shoulder. Spock maneuvered away from his jaw and planted his hands squarely on the beast's chest, keeping him upright and knocking off his equilibrium. The hound growled and swatted again and again for release, scratching and bruising Spock's arms as he held fast. The three remaining hounds encroached on the pair but the Alpha snarled and they immediately fell back into line; he'd made it clear that this was his fight and his alone.

Knocking the creature away the Basilisk hound tumbled end over end before landing upright some three yards away even angrier than before. Behind him Spock listened for Lieutenant Uhura; she gasped and hissed in pain as she struggled to get to her feet but at least he knew she was momentarily safe.

"**SPOCK!**"

A fifth creature approached after circling back through the woods, attempting to surprise him. With a quick step Spock swiveled out of the way and caught the beast in a chokehold, the Basilisk hound struggling in his mighty grip until he snapped it's neck. The animal fell to the ground with a dull thud, his comrades slinking back further as they looked on in shock; only the Alpha remained unperturbed. With another mighty roar the beast charged and Spock snarled, digging his heels into the ground until the last second when he spun around and connected his heel with the side of the animal's head, knocking him off course in a daze. The Alpha stumbled and tried to shake off his double vision.

The animal was as outraged as Spock now. Every prior move had been calculated but this time the beast flew at him in blind fury, twisting himself in mid-air and swiping at Spock's face.

The Commander felt the tear on his cheek and reached up to inspect it, smudging the blood on his skin. Across from him the beast roared in triumph.

Each knew it was either kill or be killed. Time was running short; the pack was getting restless and the faint cries of the humans could be heard approaching from the town. With another mighty roar the Alpha launched itself at Spock, baring a menacing row of gleaming white, sharp teeth. Twisting himself about the Vulcan caught him by the chops and held him tight even as the spikes pressed deep into his chest. He felt himself smile as he forced the Basilisk hound's jaw beyond the breaking point, the sharp crack of bone echoing around the field. A whimper broke free before he snapped the Alpha's neck, silencing the beast forever.

Spock tossed the lifeless body alongside the other carcass without a second thought. The pack looked from the victor to their leader once, twice, before howling and fleeing to the woods. Spock stood hunched over, his chest heaving from the fight and eyes scanning the battlefield mindful of another attack. The stench of two dead Basilisk hounds clung to him, mixing with the copper tang of his blood and filling his nostrils. He was only dimly aware of the cut below his eye and the ragged and torn flesh of his hands and torso; the sensations were forced to the background of conscious thought as he sought out Lieutenant Uhura. She stood shakily on her uninjured leg some two meters before him, eying the carcasses before craning her neck toward the sound of human cries promising help.

He had fought for her; Spock had fought for her and won and in a moment of unrestrained passion reached out and pulled her too him, biting down hard on the skin at the crook of her neck to claim his prize.

He thought he felt her sink in relief into his embrace.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.166, 2341 hours. **It had been her plan to return to her quarters only to change out of her bloodied uniform before confronting Spock.

She had no idea just _how much_ she'd hurt him—how much she'd tortured him really—until that afternoon when she saw his thoughts.

The comm. chime was fairly screaming as she stepped into her quarters and with every intention of ignoring it made her way across to the bedroom only to glance at the New Vulcan address on screen. Sarek could _not_ be ignored.

Combing her loose hair around her shoulders to hide the bruise at her collarbone, Nyota tucked her bandaged arm and leg out of view and answered the call. Whatever her father-in-law wanted or needed she hoped he would be brief.

"Greetings, Sarek. To what…"

"Spock is in danger."

Her heart sped up. _Danger?_ What could he know about Meritani? And more importantly, what did he know about Spock that she didn't? Before she could ask Sarek answered her. "I sensed his distress through the bond; his emotions are running rampant and his pain is so great I mistook it for my own. After attempting to reach him for 53 minutes he answered only to terminate the communication 38.4 seconds later. He has ignored all other calls. Once again he is refusing all my offers of assistance.

"He is not well, Nyota. His mood and behavior are similar to that of men in plak tow. I do not know what brought about these changes but the longer he remains in this state the more agitated he becomes; if you do not go to Spock soon the damage to his mind will be more grievous than his previous injury."

She looked away from the screen to try and hide her increasing guilt. Sarek needn't have called—after the evening's events she knew she'd nearly driven his son to the brink of madness.

_"JIM, I said keep pressure on that leg!"_

_"I'M TRYING!"_

_She listened to her crewmates work attempt to stabilize her as if from outside her own body. Somewhere in the distance she heard Len mention 'blood loss' and 'shock'. Glancing around she saw Spock standing stiffly off to the side keeping a close eye on her, his irises black as night. Even though her body was a giant mass of pain she still tried to bring a hand up to her collarbone to feel whether or not she imagined the mark he left._

_Spock stopped her before she ever got the chance. _

_He stepped forward and took her hand, holding it gently in his own before easing her arm back down by her side. She could feel him dimly through their skin-to-skin contact but he was blocking his thoughts, trying to distance himself even though he still held fast to her wrist. She tried to send him some reassurance and help him open up the bond but it was difficult; her head ached and his shields were too much for her to penetrate when she was this weak. _

_"Hoichi, take the Commander and get some dermaplasts on his hands, will you?"_

No! NO!_ She was scared and clutched at Spock in a panic. "Hakuna! Wala kuondoka kwangu, wala kuondoka kwangu!"_*

_"Easy Ny, you're alright," McCoy said. She could feel him patting along the wet, sticky side of her abdomen, one touch in particular making her see stars._

_"Mtoto…" she said with a groan. A tear slid down her cheek._

_Kirk shifted his grip on her bloodied leg and she cried out. "Sorry." The pressure eased somewhat but was still unbearable. "Anybody know what she's saying?"_

_"I know it's Swahili," Christine answered, "I recognize it but I don't…"_

_"The Lieutenant does not wish for me to leave," Spock swiftly replied, "And she is anxious about the child."_

_More pressure on her leg as Jim leaned forward. Only she and Spock knew he spoke Swahili—that he'd learned it for her—but that had also been forgotten; or so she thought. How he recollected it now was anyone's guess. "Since when do you speak Swahili?" the Captain asked._

_Spock looked equally confused. "I do not know." Len moved from her abdomen to her leg and she tried to look down and see what he was doing; instead she caught sight of Spock's hand. Copious amounts of his blood coated her skin and his uniform shirt was torn and clinging to the wounds on his chest. It was wrong of her to keep him here when he must be in so much pain…_

_"Ninasikitika. Wewe ni waliojeruhiwa, unahitaji matibabu. __Kugo."_*

_"Sitawaacha ninyi_. _Mimi kamwe kuondoka."_*

_Len twisted her leg to set it right and this time she couldn't stop the cry that burst forth; in that same instant Spock's shields dropped and she was inundated with his struggle to contain his desire and concern. He wanted take away all her pain even at the cost of his own relief but even more overwhelming than that was his wish that she was his. Spock hardly remembered a thing about their lives together and yet he…he… _

_…he still __loved__ her._

_And he was being driven crazy by his feelings for her._

_She slipped into unconsciousness a second later._

Nyota couldn't undo the things she saw and the memories that kept playing over and over in her head. Now she understood—all those nights spent talking, the moments he remembered from the Academy that she thought were insignificant he remembered because she had been his primary focus. She'd felt Spock's joy these last few weeks whenever she was in his presence and his pain whenever she was brusque with him.

How hard he'd worked all this time trying to keep his feelings for her in check, thinking them unseemly not because he was Vulcan but because he thought she was married to another!

Nyota couldn't believe how much she'd hurt him, how cruel she'd been when she meant to be kind.

Looking back to the screen she met Sarek's eyes. "I'll go to him. Don't worry, sa-mekh, it'll be alright." Unthinkingly she brought her bandaged hand up to terminate the call.

"You are injured. Nyota what has hap—…?"

The screen went black and she gingerly rose and walked out of the room, forgetting all about her soiled clothing and limping lest she re-injure her leg.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.166, 2350 hours. **He was a disgrace. He was a wretch _and_ a disgrace. How could he have marked her like that? His father would not have to do anything, he would declare himself V'tosh ka'tur* and save his family the trouble. The only shame the clan would have to face was that Sarek had sired not one but two illogical sons.

He pictured her again, lying on the backboard looking so fragile and lost, reaching up to feel the marks on her neck—marks that _he _left and that were worse than any Basilisk hound's.

Spock shook in disgust and paced the length of the room for the 58th time in the last 7.23 hours. Once Lieutenant Uhura lost consciousness he recognized the need to distance himself from her physically; and despite Doctor McCoy's and Captain Kirk's protests he refused medical treatment and locked himself in his quarters the minute they were aboard. A healing trance would have helped minimize most of the damage but he was too agitated and so treated his wounds as best he could, utilizing an old bed sheet for his torso and dermaplasts on his hands; however, the bandages were only meant to be a stop-gap measure and without a dermal regenerator his pals would scar.

No matter. If he allowed that to happen then it would be yet further proof that he was indeed without logic.

He needed to think but his current state made coherent thought difficult. First and foremost Spock knew he would have to resign his commission effective immediately and be transferred off the ship; it was not safe for him to be among the crew and Lieutenant Uhura in particular. Next he would make arrangements to travel to New Vulcan for an audience with T'Pau to be officially declared unfit. After that…

The chime began to sound again and he snarled at the door. If Doctor McCoy had returned to check on his condition than the physician would be sorely disappointed. Calling upon the last vestiges of his waning self-control Spock willfully ignored the door and set about composing his letter of resignation from Starfleet.

Fifteen minutes later and with his patience gone he stormed across the room to confront his incessant visitor only to come face-to-face with Lieutenant Uhura. Too stunned to speak Spock watched her brush past him without a word, the door closing shut behind her. This was dangerous ground they were treading. He trembled with desire and forced himself to remain as near the exit as possible in case he needed to make a strategic retreat.

"You should not be here."

"No," she whispered. "You're probably right." Good; she finally understood the threat he presented to her future happiness and well-being. However, the Lieutenant did not move from the spot and instead struggled to pry the wedding band off her finger; when it was done she closed the gap between them and attempted to hand over the ring. "But there's something you need to see first. Read the inscription."

* * *

><p>"You should not be here," he warned her.<p>

"No," she readily conceded. "You're probably right."

Her heart pounded in her chest and for the first time since arriving Nyota forgot her own fear as she looked at Spock's hands. The skin was still torn to shreds despite the bandages and if left untreated it would scar, severely disabling his telepathic ability. He never would've let that happen before; to cripple himself like that was completely illogical. She bit hard on her lower lip thinking of the pain he must be in, pain she had caused, and was torn between dragging him to sickbay and explaining herself. Choosing the latter lest she lose her nerve Nyota held the ring out to him but he refused to take it.

"But there's something you need to see first," she urged. "Read the inscription."

Reluctantly he extended his palm, back still against the wall, and Nyota dropped the sacred jewel without touching him. Giving him space she walked over towards the viewport with tears brimming in her eyes as she wondered how he might receive her—how he might receive _them_.

* * *

><p>Spock turned the gold band over in his hand to better read the inscription. The ring looked familiar and yet not. Right now his mind was running in a thousand different directions and he could not place it.<p>

_Ek t'nash-veh ashau—ek t'nash-veh ha'kiv, 2259.365._*

He looked up in alarm and found her staring out the window. She was bonded to a Vulcan, most likely a diplomat she had met through his own father's sphere of influence; this was worse than he could have imagined. Not only had he challenged another man for his wife but he had challenged another _Vulcan _for his _bondmate. _Spock was strong and resourceful but in a fight against a full-blooded and bonded Vulcan he _would_ lose.

Then again, however unsettling the thought might be, death would be preferable to living and losing her.

"You are bonded to a Vulcan?"

"Yes," she replied. She sounded like she was choking. "My husband is half-Vulcan…and half-Human."

She turned to face him just as his breath caught in his throat.

* * *

><p>*Nyuki  Kidogo Nyuki = Swahili for Little Bee

*Mtoto = Swahili for baby

*plak tow = Vulcan biological condition rendering one in a 'blood fever'

*Hakuna! Wala kuondoka kwangu, wala kuondoka kwangu! = Swahili, "No! Do not leave me, do not leave me!"

*Ninasikitika. Wewe ni waliojeruhiwa, unahitaji matibabu. Kugo = Swahili, "I'm sorry. You're wounded, you need treatment. Go."

* Sitawaacha ninyi. Mimi kamwe kuondoka = Swahili, "I will not leave you. I will never leave you."

* V'tosh ka'tur = Vulkhansu for One Without Logic

*Ek t'nash-veh ashau—ek t'nash-veh ha'kiv, 2259.365 = Vulkhansu, 'All my love—all my life, followed by their wedding date.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_**U.S.S. Enterprise**_**, Stardate 2261.167, 0010 hours.** Spock stood so unnaturally still that Nyota began to worry she'd said the wrong thing after all. Finally his hand unclenched around her wedding ring and he looked down at it blankly before back to her in his own expressionless disbelief. It wasas she originally suspected then; Spock was ashamed of the bonding. Just because his father had married a human didn't mean he wanted to face the same stigma and shame. His actions on Meritani, the _feelings _she saw him having for her…he'd been trying to suppress them because he found them repugnant. She'd misread the entire situation and now she'd only made it worse...

The revelation made her meltdown, exactly the scenario which she'd tried to avoid since he first woke up. "I'm sorry, I…I misunderstood, I shouldn't have…I'll…" Spock swiftly blocked her path, palm out and hovering centimeters away from her belly. She met his pleading look with one of shock and ever so slowly he laid his hand to rest on the shirt over her abdomen. The baby, who had been relatively quiet up until now, began to push back against the warmth of Spock's palm, making him gasp. Just that one exclamation made her eyes light up, and after lingering on her stomach a moment she watched his hand travel upward to come to rest over her heart.

"We are bonded?"

"Yes." She stared into his eyes, brown orbs pooling so deep she thought they were limitless.

"You are mine?"

He didn't believe her. Of all the possible outcomes she'd anticipated, this—her beautiful, stubborn, wonderful, literal-minded husband—didn't believe her. Nyota chuckled amidst her sobs and reached up, drawing his head down until their foreheads touched. _Yes, Spokh; I am yours and you are mine._

Mentally he nudged back, widening the connection, and cradled her face in his hands as he sought entry into all that he had missed. She wanted to show him everything and tried but the thoughts tripped over themselves until even she couldn't keep the chronology straight. His awe over their relationship stifled her like a wet heat that threatened to drown her and his joy only made Nyota cry harder.

_Do not cry, k'diwa*,_ he urged. His words had the opposite effect and she began to cry harder still, hating the spectacle she was making and knowing how uncomfortable it made him. Spock surprised her by reaching around and brushing the tears away with his thumb. _Show me. Show me what is troubling you._

She was too emotional, she was in no fit state to explain herself but the thoughts came out in spite of it all just as rapidly, if not more so, than before. Nyota tried to tell him why she did what she did, why she hid in plain sight, distanced herself, kept the bond and the baby a secret. It made no sense now, none of it, and she cursed herself for her human failings and stupidity.

_Stop_, he told her. _Just stop._

She did, jerking her head back and breaking the bond as she gulped down air. Reaching around Spock cradled the back of her head and pulled her closer, tucking her under his chin in the oh-so-familiar posture that let Nyota know she was finally home. "I'm sorry," she sobbed in relief. "I knew everything you were going to face. I thought it'd be better…it'd be easier if you didn't…I just didn't want to burden you…"

* * *

><p>Were it not for years of practice her thoughts would have bowled him over with their intensity; as it were Spock still struggled to keep up. Her mind was a jumble yet as she opened up her consciousness to him all the pieces began falling into place.<p>

Why she had been waiting for him at his sick room bedside.

Why there had been voids left throughout his quarters—her hair ties, PADDs, knick knacks, clothes, all removed from _their _quarters in haste.

Why the crew always stared at them whenever they were together in public.

Why she knew more about him and his private life than anyone else aboard.

Why she dominated nearly every single recovered memory he had.

As she helped him revisit their life together Spock could not help but be more amazed by her and her resilience and fall more and more madly in love. This intelligent, compassionate, beautiful woman had consented to be his bondmate.

She was _his_.

Spock could feel the tears continue to stream down her face and while his own emotional center began to fall back into place hers rapidly unraveled. _Happiness, relief, bewilderment, anger_…her heart rate sped up and, ever mindful of their child growing inside of her he urged her to calm down. _Do not cry, k'diwa._ In spite of his gentle instruction the tears kept falling and he could feel a pressure building in her mind, threatening to break. _Show me. Show me what is troubling you._

That was all he needed to say. Spock watched himself through her eyes in that same rapid tumble. There were so many memories he had yet to recover which, given the fact that they were presented out of context, made no sense; and while he did not fully understand her motivations for her behavior he could not fault her for her choice; what was done was done. He urged her to stop berating herself and as she pulled away and broke the surface bond he grieved for the loss of her presence in his mind. He pulled her close and tucked her head under his chin just to feel her again.

"I'm sorry," she said, choking back a sob. "I knew everything you were going to face. I thought it'd be better…it'd be easier if you didn't…I just didn't want to burden you…"

The fact that she thought she needed to distance herself to protect him alarmed Spock. "Nyota, how could I not be troubled? Yes, I was," he swallowed hard at the admission he was about to make, "_Devastated_ by Mother's death and the loss of Vulcan but those losses were made worse by your absence. You had half of my heart and soul and I did not know it, and believing you to be bonded to another…"

"Say it again," she whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.

Spock furrowed his brow. He had yet to finish and she needed him to repeat himself? "You had…"

"No, _Spokh_, not that. Please..." She pressed a hand to the back of his neck and showed him what she needed.

"Nyota." _Beautiful, beautiful Nyota._ He closed his eyes, reveling in the way her name rolled off his tongue—a name he previously only dared utter in his dreams. Mutual waves of pleasure washed over them both. "Nyota."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.167, 1037 hours. **Spock awoke slowly and stretched out across the mattress like a cat, tugging gently at the new skin on his chest. Only when he reached down to rub the thin shirt over his raw flesh did he realize he was alone in the middle of the bed and his wife was nowhere in sight.

"Nyota?"

As if in answer to his question the toilet flushed and water started running in the sink. She emerged a moment later in a red tank top and loose black pants. "I'm right here," she said as she stood in the doorway. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you but nature called."

She spoke but Spock did not hear a word for he could not tear his eyes away from the protruding bit of stomach that refused to be constrained by her clothing.

_He was reluctant to leave their quarters, wanting to spend the entire night asking questions only she had the answers to, but she led him through the halls to sickbay regardless. "I won't let you do this," she admonished him gently, looking down at his hands. "Not on account of me. Not when a few minutes with the dermal regen can fix it." He took hold of her hand, letting her know how grateful he was to have her looking out for him. Nyota stopped in her tracks and turned around, cupping his cheek in her hand right there in the middle of the hallway. _I always worry about you, Spock. Always. I love you; I only ever wanted what was best…_ Feeling her remorsefulness he stopped her short with a flick of his head and gently took hold of her wrist, leading her the rest of the way to sickbay._

_If Dr. M'Benga was surprised by their joint, late-night appearance than he hid it well, ushering them over to an empty bio-bed to repair the damage from the Basilisk hound attack. "There," he declared, leaning in close to examine his handiwork without extraneous physical contact. "Good as new. Be careful though and try not to put too much pressure on your chest or hands for a couple of hours just to let the nerves fully heal." He strode over to a computer on the wall and keyed in a couple codes. "Lieutenant I see you're on forty-eight hours restricted duty while you recover?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Ok." His fingers flew over the console as he input some new data. "Commander, I'm going to go ahead and order the same for you."_

_"That is not necessary, Doctor, as I will be…"_

_"Spock," she interjected. "He's trying to give us some time together. __Alone__."_

Oh._ "Very well, Doctor. I will defer to your medical expertise."_

_Dr. M'Benga nodded and grinned at Nyota. "Good, good. And don't forget to stop in again before either of you return to the bridge." _

_"Understood." But Nyota was already tugging him back out into the hall. When they entered the turbolift she ordered it to her quarters._

_He escorted her down the empty corridor on Deck 10 and could not fathom how alone she must have felt up here, isolated from the crew as she was. From her frenzied glimpses it was clear her friends had not abandoned her, but rather she had exiled herself. While he had craved solitude since his awakening he knew that Nyota thrived on social contact and here she had none. It was as though she had buried herself away along with their love and he grieved for the pain he had put her through._

_She stopped in front of her door and turned to him expectantly. "You'll come and get me later in the morning, right? So we can talk?"_

_She was leaving? "I do not understand. Are we not here to retrieve your clothing and belongings so that we may return to our quarters?"_

_Desire pulsed through him as he watched her worry her lower lip. He had the overwhelming urge to kiss her but she chose that moment to take a small half-step back. "You don't think it's too soon?"_

_That question left him well and truly puzzled. "Clarify."_

_"I only told you about us what, like two hours…"_

_"Two hours and thirty-nine minutes ago."_

_He thought even her glare of annoyance was lovely. "Right. Don't you want some time to process this? Maybe meditate? Shouldn't we take a minute before jumping back in…"_

_"We are bonded, correct?" he interrupted. Though he only had her word and her memories to go on he knew in his heart this was true._

_"Yes," she answered hesitantly._

_Spock closed his eyes, recalling the ancient marriage chant—'Parted from me and never parted.' "Nyota, I do not wish to be parted from you another minute more. I want us to return home together." Her face flushed and he could hear her heart pound while her sweet, natural scent filled his nostrils. _

_This sentiment…_aroused_ her._

_Fascinating._

_"Ok." Her voice trembled slightly with what he hoped was desire. "Let me just change and get a few things. Wait here."_

_She emerged 7.9 minutes later wearing her long bathrobe and slippers and carrying a small pile of clothing in her hands which he promptly took. The intoxicating perfume was gone, replaced instead by clean cotton. Secretly he lamented the loss though he conceded it was most likely for the best._

_It was 0258 when they finally returned to their quarters. As he removed and folded each article of his uniform Nyota raised the thermostat on the wall before crawling in under the thin sheet. Once he was down to his underwear Spock turned off the lights and also headed for bed. While he was certainly comfortable he knew other humans of his acquaintance would call this heat 'stifling'. "You do not find this temperature setting too warm?"_

_"No," she replied in the darkness. As he slipped in beside her she added, "It was hard learning to sleep without you. I missed your heat and I'm, well I guess you could say __we're__ used to it by now." _

_The baby. So many things he wanted to know about his wife and their child but he knew Nyota must have been exhausted. His questions would keep. He lay on his back hardly daring to move as she lay beside him. He wished he knew what she was thinking. If only the bond had not been taken away…_

_Reaching out he took hold of her hand, surprised to find her clutch his hand right back. She felt as awkward as he did and it was a comfort to learn he was not alone in this regard. After another moment Nyota started to slowly stroke his middle and forefinger in the ozh'etsa*; the bond blossomed under her tender embrace._

_"Is this what you need too, Spock?"_

_A bond, a connection, an anchor; a place of belonging. Acceptance. Love. _Yes…

_She broke the connection and rolled over on her side, facing away from him. Why had she done that? He was about to inquire as to her motives when she reached back for his hand. "Trust me, Ashayam*. I know I don't deserve it right now but trust me." _

_He did trust her, always had and always would, and allowed her to guide him into position. She placed his arm around her chest and scooted up against him until he completely cocooned her, the bare soles of her feet freezing the tops of his, but he did not care. Tenderly he caught some of her loose hair in his free hand and brought it up to his nose, inhaling the lavendar-tinged shampoo mixed with the exotic spices of her natural scent. His palm he pressed flat against the skin of her shoulder to keep the connection open and he followed her as she finally fell asleep. She dreamt of herself in a beautiful, bright red khanga* dancing in the desert, a small, pointed-eared infant dressed in traditional Vulcan robes balanced on her hip. It pleased him to see her so content—to see __them__ so content. _

Sleep did not elude him long after that and Spock awoke refreshed and centered, only growing worried again when she was not near.

"Spock," she said, shaking him out of his reverie. "You're staring."

He blinked up at her as he pulled himself into a sitting position. Indeed he had been staring. "I am staring because you are carrying our child."

She grinned and stroked her belly affectionately. "Oh is that what this is! I thought I swallowed a basketball."

"I believe the Captain is in need of a remedial lesson on human reproduction if that is what he believes. You did not swallow a basketball or any such object of similar size."

Nyota burst out laughing and came to sit on the foot of the bed. "You heard about that?" He nodded. "Oh my God, I'm just trying to picture Len having _that_ conversation, and with him of all people…"

A silence descended over them as her chuckles trailed off and he found his eyes settling once more on her stomach. "Is the child healthy?"

She instantly sobered. "Yes, quite."

"Was the child…"

"Yes?"

Spock swallowed hard, unsure if he could handle the answer. "…conceived…naturally?"

Nyota blushed and a small grin spread across her face. "Yes."

His brows shot up in surprise. "The likelihood that we would be able to conceive on our own is less than 3…"

"'…3.17%, not accounting for outside reproductive assistance which would only marginally increase the odds in our favor,'" Nyota quoted back at him. "I know, but we did and now here he or she is."

"I have mentioned this statistic before."

"Yes." He was only vaguely aware of her mood shifting as she grew more subdued. Spock sensed that there were more details that he was not yet privy too; however, despite his curiosity he let the matter drop so as not to upset his adun'a*. "And the cause of your fainting spell sixty-seven days ago?"

She fought a grimace as she rolled her eyes. "Just a little something the VSA forgot to mention in their 'What to Expect When Your Human Bondmate is Expecting' manual." Her attempt at deflective humor alarmed him further. Spock was ready to call the sickbay and demand access to her pre-natal records when she reached for his wrist and placed his hand atop her shirt. "We're _fine_. Honest. Completely and totally healthy. Len would have me locked up in sickbay right now if we weren't."

Just like before the child started nudging back at his palm and he struggled to visibly contain his delight. "Has the sex of the child been determined?"

"No," she replied, smiling shyly. "I…I've been waiting for you. I wanted you to be the one to tell me."

He reached for her bare arm and sent her wave after wave of love at this gift. "May I do so now?" he asked, eying the tank top and seeking permission.

"Of course."

Adoringly Spock brought his hands to the hem of her shirt, slowly rolling it up until her stomach was exposed. He was about to sense for the baby when she stopped him with a hold on his wrist.

"Are you sure it's not too much?" she asked, eying his recently-mended hands in apprehension. "We can wait. Dr. M'Benga said…"

"It is not too much." He wanted to do this—she had no idea how badly he wanted to do this. Gently extricating himself from her hold he cradled his hands around her belly and closed his eyes in concentration. The bright white light of the lifespark danced and shimmied before him, equal parts thrilled and fascinated at the connection being made. Time itself seemed to stop as he bonded with the child.

Her child. His child.

_Theirs_.

After a fashion the infant grew tired and Spock slowly withdrew. "Well?" Nyota asked before he was fully recovered. The corner of his mouth ticked up ever-so-slightly; he could not help it, he was too happy to contain himself.

"You were correct. Our daughter is healthy."

"Our daughter," she repeated with a gasp.

Spock could not help but wonder at her and with her over this miracle they created, for their daughter was a miracle no matter how illogical the notion was.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.168, 1921 hours. **It had been a strange weekend on so many levels, yet as Nyota sat at the kitchen table going over her duty reports she couldn't help but bristle feeling Spock's eyes on the back of her neck. He'd been watching her like a hawk for the last two days and after the initial joy of their reunion wore off irritation set in. Sometimes he'd have that look on his face too—the one he got when he came across a problem he couldn't solve quite right—and if she didn't make a point of _asking_ him what was on his mind he'd just go right back to staring at her _like that_.

On the one hand it was unnerving being scrutinized so closely; on the other hand she knew she deserved it after all she'd put him through. Spock probably did think that if he blinked she might up and disappear—either that or he'd wake up and find he was having a break with reality—which was why she'd put up with it for so long. She owed it to him.

But after a further fifteen minutes she just couldn't take it anymore. "Ok, enough! Uncle! Uncle! What gives?"

One eyebrow shot straight into his hairline. "Uncle? I do not understand. I am your husband, not your uncle."

"It's an idiom," she said with a dismissive flick of the wrist. "But that's not the point. Why do you keep staring at me like that? Can't you see how annoying that is?"

"I noticed your exasperation increasing as of 12.9 minutes ago but was unaware that my scrutiny was the cause. If it will make you more comfortable I will desist."

"Thank you."

"However, I must insist that you then join me on the sofa as we complete our assignments in preparation for tomorrow."

That was new. She almost always worked at the table so she could spread her work out (much to his annoyance) in her typical controlled chaos; but if sitting next to him was what he wanted… "Ok…" She plopped down beside him. "Is this better?"

"Affirmative." Spock returned to his own reports and did not pay her another thought.

Another ten minutes went by before she spoke again. "This isn't working either."

He quickly glanced down at her PADDs strewn about the coffee table commingling with his own. "Do you require more usable space? Perhaps if we both return to…"

"No, Spock, that's not what I'm talking about. What's going on with you? I know I deserve—" she gestured at him emphatically with both hands "—_this_, but can we please at least talk about it instead of you guilting me with your eyes for the rest of our lives?"

She watched him parse out her meaning and struggle with his own response. "I am not attempting to 'guilt' you with my eyes, now or in the future. I find that in light of recent events I…am in…_need_…of certain reassurances…with regards to our relationship."

The last bit was stilted and quiet but at least it was a start. Nyota's anger instantly left her knowing how hard it was for him to articulate his feelings. She turned in her seat and leaned forward. "Would it help if we…?" she pointed to her temple.

"Yes."

His relief was palpable as he connected with her psi points and entered her mind with the barest ripple.

_"You're hardly here," she thought._

_"I did not wish to overwhelm you." _

_Nyota shot him the mental equivalent of a look of ire. "I'm not a china doll, you don't have to be quite so gentle. I won't break and I'm __not__ going anywhere. What I need is for you to get in here and talk to me about what's bothering you."_

_He sighed, something he would never allow himself to do outside the mental plane. "As you wish." _

_Her world quickly exploded with the heat and autumn colors she associated with his mind as he opened up the bond more deeply. "There," she said with relief. "Much better."_

_"Yes. I could not agree with you more." After an indeterminate time she felt Spock sigh again and attempt to begin._

_"Nyota, I am unsure as to how much you know about the custom of the Vulcan marital bond but if you would permit me I would like to explain it to you." Giving her acquiescence he began with more confidence. "The bond is not simply an affectation of our telepathic evolution; it is a necessary component of a marriage partnership. It comes from the time before Surak when mates were regularly taken by force. The bond not only legitimized the relationship but cemented the male's claim on the female. If another tried to take her he would be able to use the bond to locate her and fight for her as was his right. _

_"Today the bond is as much about protecting one's mate as it is about fostering affection and support. Bonds are forged as children so that the intended can grow accustomed to one another's presence, to learn their likes and dislikes, to…"_

_"Like the bond you had with T'Pring."_

_Spock gave her the equivalent of a double-take. "I do not know why I am surprised that you know about her."_

_She resisted the urge to shoot him a smug smirk. "You two were bonded for a long time; it'd be difficult for me __not__ to know about her considering the marks she left on your psyche. I chose not to ask too many questions because I know you don't like to talk about her but it's obvious you two weren't well-suited for each other."_

_"She despised me." It was the first time he'd ever admitted such a thing despite vague hints and feelings along those lines. In fact, although he grieved her senseless death, just thinking about T'Pring now made his blood boil and that feeling was transferred across the bond. "She despised the abomination she found herself connected to."_

_"You are __not__ an abomination," she growled back._

_"No." He replayed the moment he first interacted with their daughter, how in awe he was of her and her vibrant life spark. "We are not." Spock set the memory aside. _

_"The point I am attempting to make is that the bond is a vital part of a Vulcan relationship and without it I find myself struggling. We know that we are bonded and yet we are without a bond—a predicament I must admit I am not fully equipped to deal with. I grow more concerned for your well-being when you are not within visual range, especially in light of the pregnancy. Also, I cannot gauge how best to interpret your moods or discern your needs without direct physical contact and that is not always convenient or appropriate."_

_She considered arguing with him on that point before realizing she wasn't the one protesting physical contact—__he__ was. He wanted to be a good bondmate but knew that when they returned to the bridge it wouldn't be proper for him, a most private and proper Vulcan man, to suddenly reach out and take hold of her hand whenever he was in need of edification or support. _

_However, his answer wasn't quite answer enough. "Is that the __only__ reason why you keep staring at me all day?"_

_Nyota felt his mortification even as he dutifully replied, "I also find that I am both surprised and humbled that you would consent to bond with me. I have not yet been able to reconcile these emotions and find myself staring at you more often than not."_

_Now it was her turn to blush. After everything she'd put him through and he didn't think __he__ deserved __her__. "Oh Spock…"_

_She swallowed hard and focused. If she didn't say it now she'd lose her nerve and chicken out. "I need to ask you something. May we…" She gestured toward the waking world._

_"Of course."_

He withdrew from her mind slowly but before he could fully take his hands away she clasped them in hers and brought them down to her lap. His gratitude was obvious and she squeezed his hands back. "Don't go thanking me just yet…" His confusion crackled like static across the bond but Nyota ignored it. "I need to know if you understand why I did what I did and if you'll ever be able to really forgive me."

Spock quirked his head and carefully reviewed her question. "I admit that I have considered the situation carefully, but while the entirety of your reasoning escapes me I trust that your logic in doing as you did was sound."

"Really? Why?"

"Because I trust you, Nyota. You would not have done as you did without considering all possibilities."

Her heart melted at his vast confidence in her, despite it's being misplaced. "Spock, I…I want to explain myself." He started to protest. "I mean _really_ explain myself. I know now that my reasoning was flawed even if you don't and I want to try and tell you why things happened the way they did."

Spock sat beside her on the couch quietly rubbing small circles in the back of her hand with his thumb. She took it as her opening. "Ok." Her breath came out all in a rush as she suppressed a tremble. Why was she suddenly so scared? What did she have to lose?

Everything; Nyota realized if he rejected her now that he had full knowledge of their relationship then she had _everything_ to lose.

With that thought a new sensation rippled across the bond and she realized Spock was projecting his fears too, thereby magnifying her own. Now that she noticed he tried to send her some encouragement. _I will not leave you, k'diwa. Never. And I will hear all you have to say. _In spite of his thoughts she could still feel his niggling doubt about her wanting to leave him and she squeezed his hand again.

How had she managed to mess things up so badly?

"Before I start you need to know that I didn't lie to you because I wanted to break the bond. I _never_ want that. The only time I could ever want the bond to be broken would be if it was something you wanted or needed or if it saved your life…which is kind of what I thought I was doing at the time." The tightness in her chest eased as his fear receded.

"The day Vulcan was destroyed—" here his calm stuttered and she couldn't blame him, "You lost your control. You lost it publicly and you lost it badly. Jim provoked you; he had his reasons but that doesn't excuse him and seeing you like that…so…so _raw_…you have NO idea what it was like, loving you and seeing you hurt like that. And every day since you've gotten up out of bed, reported for duty and gone about your business like you don't still carry all that pain inside when really it's almost as fresh as the day it happened.

"I'm not telling you this to hurt you—I'm telling you because when you woke up I _knew_ what awaited you even if you didn't. What happened to your people—what happened to your mother—was absolutely terrible and I knew how difficult it was going to be for you having to go through that all over again; and without the bond, without any kind of basis for a relationship with me whatsoever, I knew my presence in your life would only complicate your recovery. In your mind I was still nothing more than your TA—another cadet on a campus full of cadets. I only found out about the baby a few days before you beamed down and was going to tell you that night after you got back but then everything happened and it just made more sense to wait. I wasn't showing yet and I figured a cure would be found soon enough and I could tell you then.

"It was me who convinced Len and Jim that you were better off not knowing—but don't be mad at them because even though they went along with it they were against the idea from the start. Sa-mekh too—I mean Sarek—he also didn't think it was wise. But I really thought you were better off processing your grief first, in your own way and in your own time.

"And then one week turned into two, and then a month went by, and another, and it all just snow-balled out of control from there." Nyota felt the tears well up in her eyes and willed them back; Spock deserved to know that while he was bonded to a very foolish woman she wasn't always so prone to blubbering. _Stupid hormones._ "I always intended to come clean but it got harder and harder to find the right words and when I thought you were doing better without me…well, I love you, and if there was a chance you could end up happier without the bond then I was going to let you go."

She reached through the bond to get a better sense of him. _Surprise confusion sadness upset appreciation_…_love. _

_Love?_

"Yes," he answered aloud. "You were prepared to sacrifice all on my behalf. To not…" Here he faltered and raised a hand to her temple again, seeking permission. She nodded and waited for him to finish. _"To not love you as much as you love me—and love you __more__ in light of this revelation—would be illogical."_

_"Love isn't logical," she reminded him half-teasingly._

_"I am discovering that love is more powerful than logic."_

_She mentally quirked an eyebrow and he smiled. "Does this mean I'm forgiven?"_

_"That was never in question…" _

He suppressed all further discussion with a soft, reverential kiss.

* * *

><p>*k'diwa = Vulkhansu for Beloved<p>

*ozh'etsa = Vulcan finger kiss

*Ashayam = Vulkhansu for Beloved

*khanga = Traditional African dress

*a'duna = Vulkhansu for wife

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Hi everybody! Thank you for all the reviews so far; they really make my day!

I know some people were expecting Spock to get incredibly upset when Nyota finally told him the truth but I personally feel that that's just not his style. Think of Spock before as walking in a daze, juggling all these warring emotions not only because his mind was violated but because his mother died, his planet was destroyed and he discovered he was in love with a woman he believed was married to another man and expecting a child. Now that he knows the truth, whether he agrees wither Nyota's reasoning or not, he feels nothing but relief. Don't get me wrong, he's still upset about what happened to him on Anguillida, he's just too grateful to be mad at his wife_—_besides, getting angry at her just wouldn't be logical.

As for Spock and Sarek, well I always pictured their relationship in this story as being very complicated. I think the two of them had a rocky relationship before the Destruction and they only started mending fences after Amanda and Vulcan were gone. Over the last few years they'd enjoyed a much closer father/son relationship but when Spock loses his memory he thinks that the two of them are still at odds, hence why he's so terse with his father whereas Sarek wants to try and help him. Don't worry, they'll get their moment soon too.

Hopefully this clears up a few things_—_if not, don't worry, there's always the next couple chapters ;-)


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **Hello again! This is a longer update so I hope you all like it; also, it gets a bit M-themed near the end-nothing overt but definitely suggestive. If that's not your cup of tea then stop reading when Nyota wakes up. Hope that's fair warning to you all. Bye!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.169, 1305 hours. **"Bullshit!"

"Don't believe me? Fine, go hear it straight from the horse's mouth," Bones said as he gestured out at the bridge.

Jim looked around and saw Spock just resuming his station. Marks was seated at the comm. panel which meant that Uhura was in the lab, even though she'd been with them on the bridge before the lunch break.

If they were back together he'd have known; after all, they'd been working side-by-side all morning. Surely he would've seen _something_, right? Better still they'd have told him. They were his friends, of course they'd have told him.

He called Spock over to where Bones had stopped him for an impromptu confab. The Vulcan promptly stood and made his way over, hands clasped behind his back and face expressionless as always. "Yes, Captain?"

"Mr. Spock, anything you care to tell me?"

His First looked from the Doctor to him and back again without so much as blinking; meanwhile Bones had his arms folded across his chest and struggled to suppress a smile, clearly enjoying Jim's discomfort. "Clarify."

He rolled his eyes. "Anything you care to tell me about _this morning_?"

Spock quirked his head. "Doctor McCoy cleared me for duty 5.14 hours ago. Aside from a scar 20.9 centimeters long along the left side of my hand I am fully recovered from Friday's incident."

That's it, Bones had to be teasing him; or maybe he was trying to trick him into inadvertently revealing the truth to Spock. He hadn't liked Uhura's plan from the beginning and only got more vocal in his opposition as time wore on. Truth be told Jim was beginning to regret his part in the deceit too but he'd given her his word. If Bones was trying to get him to spill the beans to Spock he'd be sorely disappointed. "Anything _else_ you'd care to tell me?"

The Commander took a moment to consider and replied, "I have discovered that the Class D nebula that we are approaching is…"

"Oh for crying out loud!" If he had to hear one more word on that damn nebula he was going to scream. Kirk pulled out his communicator and hailed the comm. lab. "Bridge to Uhura."

"Uhura here."

"Mind coming up here for a minute?"

She acknowledged and the three men moved as one toward the turbolift. Bones could barely keep the snarky smirk off his face.

When the doors opened Uhura started at the sight of them all lined up waiting for her. "Anything you wish to tell us, _Lieutenant_?" He made a show of looking from her to Spock and back again and watched the small happy smile cross her face.

So it _was_ true.

"Told you so," McCoy smugly chimed in.

"Bullshit!" All eyes on the bridge were on them now but Jim didn't care. He was pissed. "How long has this been going on?"

"If I am to infer your meaning correctly, then to answer your question the Lieutenant and I have been bonded for exactly 1.19 years…"

Jim's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "How long has he known about the—"

"…furthermore I was made aware of the fact that we are bonded 61 hours and 8.33 minutes ago."

"Sixty hours…then that means…and you two…all weekend?" He was no longer pissed; he was furious.

"Yes," Uhura replied.

"Are you kidding me?"

"Captain…"

"Jim, calm down."

Oh no, McCoy was not pulling that doctor crap on him, not now. He jerked away from the hand on his shoulder. "No, I will NOT calm down! After everything they put me through…!"

"Captain…" Spock tried again.

"Ok kids." Bones ushered them all toward the conference room before they could make a bigger spectacle of themselves. "Why don't we move this show along somewhere more private? Uh, Sulu…?" He gestured toward the command chair.

The pilot nodded. "Got it."

He waited until the door closed behind all four of them to _really_ let into Spock and Nyota. He'd been letdown by plenty of people in his life before but this time—this time he hadn't been expecting it from them of all people and he was going to let them have it.

"After everything that's happened these last few months you couldn't even take 2 seconds to tell me that you're back together? Do you have any idea what this has done to the crew? To me? Do you?" The only response he got was when Uhura averted her eyes but that one gesture was telling enough. "Then why the hell didn't either of you say anything?"

"Your highly emotional response is incongruent with the situation at hand and is, perhaps, indicative of why my wife and I did not immediately inform you of our reunion. Also, as this is a private matter I find…"

Seriously? "Private? Your argument is that all this was _PRIVATE_? Hell, Spock, who do you think helped Uhura keep this secret for so long? Do you really think she redacted all the files about you two by herself? What about the crew, you think she put the blanket gag order out and they all just obeyed her? And even if she did manage to do all that do you really think I'd just _let _her? Do you even…"

"Captain, if I may ask, why—given your current hysteria on the matter—did you agree to follow her on this particular course of action if it was so abhorrent to you?"

That quieted Kirk's indignant rage, if only for a minute. "I…well I…" he spluttered.

* * *

><p>Nyota slipped her hand in his the moment the door was shut.<p>

_"We should have told him when we first reported for duty…"_

_"Our reunion was not of his immediate concern."_

The Captain's screeching interrupted their private communication. "After everything that's happened these last few months you couldn't even take 2 seconds to tell me that you're back together? Do you have any idea what this has done to the crew? To me? Do you?" Nyota looked away but said nothing as his eyes remained fixed on the viewport beyond the Captain's shoulder. "Then why the hell didn't either of you say anything?"

Spock saw a chance to say what was uppermost on his mind. "Your highly emotional response is incongruent with the situation at hand and is, perhaps, indicative of why my wife and I did not immediately inform you of our reunion. Also, as this is a private matter I find…"

The man started screeching loudly and he had to resist the urge to cover his ears. "Private? Your argument is that all this was _PRIVATE_? Hell, Spock, who do you think helped Uhura keep this secret for so long? Do you really think she redacted all the files about you two by herself? What about the crew, you think she put the blanket gag order out and they all just obeyed her? And even if she did manage to do all that do you really think I'd just _let _her? Do you even…"

He could not understand why the Captain was so upset. This was, as he had explained, a private matter between himself and his adun'a. "Captain, if I may ask, why—given your current hysteria on the matter—did you agree to follow her on this particular course of action if it was so abhorrent to you?"

He spluttered. "I…well I…my knowing…_things_…and knowing you like I do—like _we _do," the Captain amended, "We did it 'cause we thought it was what was best for you."

Nyota merely kept her gaze on the floor.

Spock studied his superior. The Captain Kirk of his brief association had never looked so uncertain of himself before and it was a startling contrast from the self-assured leader he had worked with for the last 3.56 months. Perhaps there was more going on here than met the eye and the longer he contemplated what that may be the more reasonable his request sounded. "Captain."

The man's shoulders shrugged in defeat. "What?"

"If you would permit me, I would like to initiate a mind meld with you."

* * *

><p>She didn't know what to think. Jim was acting like a child—and yet his argument had merit. He'd helped her, helped them. He'd broken with protocol, gone against regs, and they hadn't even bothered to tell him that the situation had been resolved. He did deserve to hear the truth from them instead of second-hand.<p>

And the look he suddenly shot her made her feel ten times worse than before.

She kept looking down at a small scuff mark on the floor, wondering if she would ever rid herself of all this guilt.

"Captain." Spock looked at Jim like he had a plan; Nyota wasn't sure she was going to like it.

"What?"

"If you would permit me, I would like to initiate a mind meld with you."

Oh. Oh boy. Instantly she leapt to Spock's defense.

_"You don't have to do this," she told him through the surface bond. "He'll get over it soon…"_

_"The Captain is upset and I need to understand why. This is the most sound and expedient course of action given that he remembers the last 3.34 years of our acquaintanceship and I do not."_

She felt his deep-seeded curiosity over the enigma that was James T. Kirk and determined that this wasn't just a move to placate him; he genuinely wanted to understand Jim better. Reluctantly she let go of his hand.

* * *

><p>Oh no, not the head voo-doo hooey; not on his watch. "Jim…" he warned, his voice gruff and low.<p>

But the kid brushed him off. "No, Bones, it's alright. It's not like I haven't done this before." True enough but still that didn't mean he had to like it. Not only was his psyche at stake but so was Spock's. Who knew what a meld with Jim might do to the hobgoblin's head? Hadn't the Vulcan's mind already been messed with enough?

Len watched Spock step away from his wife and settle down in a chair to prepare. Glancing at the Captain he couldn't tell if the kid was excited or nervous—probably a fair bit of both—as he took his seat. Whatever the case, McCoy kept his medkit handy and secretly monitored both of their vitals with his tricorder. All too soon for his liking they were ready to begin.

"My mind to your mind…my thoughts to your thoughts…"

* * *

><p><em>For a highly emotional being he quickly discovered that Captain Kirk had a remarkably disciplined mind. That did not stop his thoughts from veering off-course in numerous directions but the movement was not random; on the contrary it was calculated in a way that simply was not Vulcan. The Captain was content to sit back and watch as Spock acclimated himself to his surroundings<em>—_that is until he attempted to access a corridor sealed off by a large pneumatic door._

_"No," Kirk ordered from the opposite side of the mental plane. "Not there. Nothing back there concerns you"_

_Spock nodded and backed away, hands clasped behind his back. "Of course, Captain. Where do you suggest we begin?"_

_"At the beginning, of course."_

_An eyebrow shot up; his speech reminded him of a character from one of his mother's favorite stories, __Alice in Wonderland__. Before he could question the comparison or contemplate the matter further the scenery swirled behind them and soon Spock found himself in front of an honor court at the Academy. The assembly was dispersing and he watched Kirk and McCoy study him as he exited quickly through a side door._

_"Who was that pointy-eared bastard?"_

_"I don't know," memory-McCoy answered as he led the Captain away, "But I like him."_

_Those simple statements contradicted everything Spock thought he knew about both men. "What is the meaning of this?"_

_A humorless chuckle escaped Kirk's lips. "This is the first time we met. Officially."_

_"We met at an honor court?"_

_"Yep. You brought me up on charges of 'academic insubordination' for beating the Kobayashi Maru."_

_Both eyebrows now rose into his hairline. "You mean to say that you cheated on the simulation?"_

_Kirk had the good grace to look abashed even as he lied. _

_The next scene was a view of the _Enterprise _bridge. The command crew was gathered around Captain Kirk, who was wearing an odd black uniform and mottled with bruises. Spock entered and all eyes turned to him._

_"Doctor, Mr. Chekov is correct. I can confirm his telemetry. If Mr. Sulu is able to maneuver us into position I can beam aboard Nero's ship, steal back the black hole device and, if possible, bring back Captain Pike."_

_"I won't allow you to do that, Mr. Spock," the memory-Captain replied._

_"Romulans and Vulcans share a common ancestry. Our cultural similarities will make it easier for me to access the ship's computer to locate the device." He paused and took a deep breath. "Also, my mother was human, which makes Earth the only home I have left."_

_This was the day Vulcan was destroyed_—_the day his mother died. Spock felt his blood boil at the injustice of it all…_

_"Easy, Spock," the Captain urged, carefully placing a hand on his arm. "Just breathe_—_watch and breathe."_

_They both watched as the memory-Captain considered his request a moment before answering. "Then I'm coming with you."_

_"I would cite regulation but I know you will simply ignore it."_

_Past-Kirk grinned in amusement, much like the man standing beside him was also doing. He approached Spock and said, "See? We are getting to know each other," then clapped him hard on the shoulder._

_This meld was far from edifying; in fact it was terribly confusing. "I do not understand…"_

_The Captain stopped him short as the scene faded away. "Just keep watching."_

_Next they were standing in the corridor on Deck 9 just outside of his personal quarters. The Captain jogged into view with a box under one arm, whistling as he approached. He opted to knock on the door instead of pressing the chime and rocked on the balls of his feet as he waited._

_Spock answered, the heat of his quarters blasting memory-Kirk in the face; but the man's smile never faded. "Care for a game of 3-D chess, Mr. Spock?" _

_"I am a grand master," he replied coolly._

_Instead of thwarting his efforts the Captain proceeded to stride into his quarters uninvited. "Alright! Finally, a worthy opponent!"_

_"We play chess," Spock stated as the doors closed on their past counterparts._

_"Yes." If he was reading the Captain correctly_—_and he believed that he was_—_then the man was showing signs of exasperation._

_"I fail to see how this is relevant to the matter at hand."_

_"All in good time, Mr. Spock."_

_Soon Spock found himself standing over the Captain, staring down at the injured man as he lay in a field of purple wheat swaying gently in the breeze. He had a wide hole in his side that was spurting thick jets of red blood. A small, furry, reddish-purple figure lay on the ground a few meters away either dead or unconscious, he could not be certain. His memory-self kneeled beside the injured man and kept pressure on the wound._

_"Benta III," the Captain answered to his unspoken question. "Not one of our better missions."_

_The rest of the away team was running across the field at a dead sprint to reach them but the Captain was losing a lot of blood. Before Spock could question him further his memory-self spoke. "You should not have jumped in front of the projectile." Only he could detect the note of deep concern in the admonishment._

_"He was aiming at you, Spock," the sick man rasped. "Would've gone right through your heart."_

_"Negative, Captain, as my heart is located in the same region as your spleen."_

_Memory-Kirk coughed and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. "Oh," he managed between gasps. "Good to know. Future reference and all." He groaned and more blood gurgled up in the back of his throat._

_Spock watched his counterpart's eyes narrow as he stared hard into his superior's face. "Sir, you must cease engaging in this reckless behavior. As Captain of the _Enterprise_ you are not expendable."_

_Anger fueled by sheer adrenaline propelled the injured Captain into a semi-upright position and he grabbed Spock's collar. "And neither are you!"_

_Slowly he began to understand._

_Now he stood in the sitting room of a small dwelling, smoothing down the front of his formal robes. The Captain knocked on the door frame and entered, tugging at the collar of his dress uniform. "Your father sent me to get you. He says it's time." Spock nodded and they exited together, stepping out of the house and seeing Dr. McCoy waiting on the edge of the property also appareled in his dress uniform._

_"This is your…"_

_"My bonding, yes," Spock answered for him. "I see."_

_"Cap—Jim," his memory-self said hesitantly. The Captain paused mid-stride. "I appreciate your presence here today. Yours and Leonard's."_

_He saw the Captain flush. "There's no need to thank us—"_

_"I believe that in terms of Earth customs you would both be considered my 'best men'."_

_"Why…" the thought trailed off as Spock stuck a hand out to shake. Surprised, the Captain reached forward and shook. "It's an honor, Spock." He withdrew and turned, meeting Leonard at the border to begin their trek across the desert._

_The sickbay was dark and quiet. Jim looked over to see Uhura fast asleep, curled up on the bio-bed beside Spock. The Vulcan looked closely at his memory-self for any obvious signs of injury; there were none. He could only deduce that this trip was a result of his still-unexplained experiences on Anguillida. Spock longed to reach forward and reassure Nyota that all would end well_—_she looked so sad and vulnerable even in her sleep and he hated to be the cause of her worry_—_but memory-Jim moved along, stepping right into the Doctor's office without disturbing either of them._

_"Well?"_

_Dr. McCoy looked up from his desk and motioned for Kirk to take a seat. "I told you I'd call if there was any change."_

_"I know, but have you figured out what's wrong with him yet? It's been 4 days, Bones, why's he not waking up?"_

_The Doctor shot him a dirty look. "If I knew that don't you think he'd be awake by now ?"_

_Kirk stuck a finger in the physician's face. "Hey, don't take that tone with me, McCoy…!"_

_"You think I like this any better than you do? For cryin' out loud, Jim, that's our friend out there! I'm a doctor, I'm supposed to heal people and I can't even tell ya what's wrong with him let alone help him! You think __you__ feel helpless? Well I have news for ya, kid, you're not alone!"_

_Memory-Kirk shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suitably chastised. "You're right. I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just on edge." _

_"Then that makes two of us."_

_The pair of men stared at one another in anguish before the Captain rose to his feet. "Guess I'll just go say good night and get out of your hair." Halfway to the door he turned . "But if anything changes…"_

_"I know, I know, I'll call you…now scram. And if you ever tell him I said any of that…"_

_The Captain smirked as he stood in the doorway and made an X over his chest. "I won't, cross my heart. Your secret's safe with me." Spock watched him cross the sickbay toward his bed and lean over to whisper in his ear. Even as he sought to set his unconscious and injured self at ease the Captain's voice still trebled with sadness and fear. "I don't know what's wrong with you but just…just focus on getting better, ok? Don't worry, we'll take care of Uhura and the baby for you 'til you get back. Nothing's going to happen to them, I swear. Now hurry up and wake up, alright? That's an order."_

_Spock watched his Captain leave while they remained standing in the middle of the sickbay. "I believe I have seen enough."_

_The Captain pursed his lips and clasped his hands behind his back. "Alright. If you're sure."  
>As he withdrew there were a flurry of memory fragments that Kirk was unaware he was projecting; there was also an unfamiliar voice echoing across the connection, harkening to the sentiment Spock himself was only just beginning to understand.<em>

_"I am, and always shall, be your friend…"_

* * *

><p>"WHOA!" Jim's eyes went wide as the meld ended and he gripped the edge of the table with one hand, breathing hard. Len was by his side in an instant, monitoring his vitals while fishing around for a hypo in his kit.<p>

"Dammit, Jim!"

"M'fine." The kid was anything but fine—he looked like he'd through the ringer and was on the verge of collapse.

He glared at him. "You're not fine, your heart rate's through the roof! And you!" He spun around to scan Spock who was uncharacteristically slumped in his chair, Nyota crouched behind him with her hands worriedly holding onto his shoulders. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, don't you have some way of regulatin' that? Your heart's beatin' too fast even for an overgrown elf!"

"My heart is currently beating 282 beats per minute, Doctor, and I am attempting to do just as you advise."

"Damn stubborn…head voo doo…never listen…if not for me…both be dead…" he muttered as he jammed the shot into Jim's neck. He flinched but calmed down, and Spock appeared to be following suit. "This is why you'll never get in my head, see?" he practically shouted at the hobgoblin. "I'm a vault, dammit—I'm a vault and I'm the only one with a key, nobody else in or out, you got that?"

"Understood, Doctor."

"Geez Bones, lighten up, we're fine. Just a little emotional transference, that's all," Jim replied still sounding a bit winded.

Just a little—what the hell? The kid made it sound like a walk in the park. Angrily he jammed the empty hypo back in his bag and ran a hand through his hair.

When would those two ever learn?

* * *

><p>"What happened?" Nyota whispered in his ear in Vulkhansu. Spock attempted not to let expression cloud his face.<p>

"You did not tell me that they were t'hy'la. The Captain is correct, he should have been informed of our circumstances much earlier."

She felt herself go flush. She knew they were all friends but he'd never let on just _how_ _much_ he cared for the other men. Reaching up he took a hold of her hand and showed her the years of bullying and torment he endured on Vulcan; then he contrasted that with his experiences with Kirk and McCoy that he'd just seen in Jim's head.

_"The Captain has been most effusive in his previous demonstrations of friendship; perhaps that is why I originally thought him to be false. The Doctor has been more covert and has a most unusual way of displaying concern, one that I mistook for more ornery human behavior rather than friendship."_

_Nyota smiled. "That's just how he is."_

_Spock nodded. "I am beginning to understand that now. Forgive me, adun'a, but I must return to our quarters; I need to meditate. This information has left me rather unsettled."_

_She understood. "Of course. Go. I'll see you later."_

He broke contact and with a nod towards McCoy and a rapidly-recovering Kirk, Spock up and quit the room.

"What the—hey!" Len shouted as the door closed behind him. "Where does he think he's going?"

"He needs to meditate," she answered.

"Meditate? He needs to get his ass down to medical, that's what he…"

"Bones." That one word silenced them both and left all eyes on Jim as he looked up questioningly into her face. "What does t'hy'la mean?"

Her mind was racing. Kirk didn't know any Vulkhansu, so what made him pick up on that word in particular? A look in his direction showed she was wrong as he sheepishly shrugged his shoulders.

"What can I say, you've got a great tutorial system set-up…" Crap. Her own programming had betrayed her. Now Nyota began to wonder just how much he understood and how many other 'private' conversations he'd overheard. Jim brought both hands up in supplication. "I don't normally eavesdrop, I swear, and I didn't understand half of what you just said but I know that word means something and it's not one I've ever seen or heard before. So what does it mean?"

She drew herself up to her full height, sticking out her chin in an almost defiant posture. She didn't want to betray Spock's confidence but they deserved to know that he understood where there concern was coming from now and that he valued the relationship between them—more so than even she realized until just a few moments ago. "T'hy'la means brother, Jim. Blood brother. He thinks of you both as his brothers." And with that she followed her husband's example and walked straight out the door.

* * *

><p>Damn. He knew that Spock felt things but the sheer <em>force<em> of all those emotions…how did manage to hold that back _every day_? How did he get out of bed, kiss Uhura good morning and not crack a smile? Share a joke with Chekov and not laugh? Frown as he struggled to translate Scotty's liberal form of Standard?

Better yet, how on _Earth_ could he argue with Bones time after time and not scream at their friend's stubbornness?

Jim's head felt like it was going to explode just trying to think of it all.

He wouldn't let on to this fact with Bones around but this meld was harder on him than the previous one with Old Spock. It wasn't just the strength of Spock's emotions that undid him but the scope of them; right now he wanted to sprint out of the room, sob like a girl, scream until he was hoarse and laugh hysterically and all at the same time—and if it weren't for the hypo he'd probably be doing it too.

No wonder Spock had to meditate so much.

Still, he was glad he'd agreed to the meld, otherwise he might never have known how deep _his _Spock's feelings ran. Even before Anguillida there were times when he'd questioned their unconventional friendship despite what Elder Spock had told him. Jim loved Spock and Bones like brothers but there'd still be those rare days where his First seemed more Vulcan than friend, as if he just deigned to be in Jim's presence and barely tolerated him and his human whims. That's not to say Bones didn't have his moments too but those were different because Jim always knew they'd pass. Maybe it was a cultural thing, maybe it was a Spock thing, who knows, but sometimes he found himself questioning the depth of Spock's attachment to him and the rest of the crew.

He couldn't place Uhura in that category though because she was a woman apart.

"T'hy'la means brother, Jim. Blood brother. He thinks of you both as his brothers."

The door closed behind her and he watched the expressions play out on Bones' face; when rendered speechless his friend could gape like a fish out of water like no other. "Did you…?"

"Nope, not a clue."

"Huh."

Jim awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Still waters, I guess."

"Right." The quiet lasted a moment more before the Doctor seemed to recover. "You don't think he's gonna make us do the Vulcan equivalent of huggin' it out or somethin', do you? 'Cause I wasn't kiddin' about this bein' a vault," he said emphatically jamming a finger into his temple.

Jim let out a good loud snort, glad to know that things weren't going to change between them after all; trust Bones to be _that _paranoid about a group mind meld. "No, I don't think you have to worry about that. Spock's not exactly the 'hugging' type."

* * *

><p><em><strong>New Vulcan Colony, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.169, 0230 hours local time. **Sarek turned swiftly away from the bedroom and plodded barefoot down the hall toward his study where the comm. unit chimed. He was learning to dread the late-night calls, especially when an _Enterprise_ address scrolled across the screen. His son's predicament and recent turbulent emotional state had been uppermost on his mind for the last 4 days and he was concerned about what this call might mean.

No sooner had he sat down then Spock's image was in view. "Sa-mekh."

Blinking back at his son, Sarek scarcely dared to hope. "Sa-fu*."

For a long while neither spoke. The ground they were treading was fraught with snares and he knew Spock was calculating how best to proceed with the conversation—it was what he was doing as well. Before either could address the other the soft rustle of fabric and a quiet, decidedly feminine moan emanated from the room beyond Spock's shoulder.

_Nyota_.

So they had reconciled then. Good. Yet even as he felt relief on behalf of his son Sarek felt a new coil of tension spring up in the pit of his stomach. Was Spock calling to berate him for his part in the prolonged deception? Would he cut off what limited contact they still had with each other in a fit of anger?

"Nyota speaks of you often," Spock began, addressing the proverbial 'elephant' in the room. "Although I believe that she still censors much of her speech wherever you are concerned; however, on the occasions when you do come up in conversation she speaks very highly of you."

Only years of practice helped him halt the blush that crept into the tips of his ears. He was extremely fond of her too. "She is an uncommon woman."

"Yes," he replied, turning back in the direction of the bedroom for a quick glance. "She is."

Sarek sat back and waited. Too often he forced his will where Spock was concerned, attempting to make him more Vulcan than not to compensate for his own perceived weakness for having fallen in love with Amanda. In recent years he had learned from his errors and vowed never to make those same mistakes again lest he permanently lose his son. Tonight, Spock would lead.

"I find I am…conflicted," his son started again. This was a beginning—an uncomfortable one to be sure, but this entire conversation was going to prove as difficult as it was necessary for them to have. "My…" His voice trailed off and Spock abruptly closed his mouth, unwilling to proceed.

"Speak, Spock," he urged.

"That would not be prudent."

In the back of his mind Sarek felt a spike of irritation flare across the parental link. For the last 4 days the bond had crackled with clamped down anger and confusion, upsetting his own emotional state as much as it was upsetting his son's. The last time they had both been so raw had been the day Amanda died and again Sarek harkened back to the words he'd spoken on that fateful occasion in order to help their child. "What is necessary is never unwise, Spock. Speak."

An eyebrow rose as his son swept over his features with a curious gaze. Perhaps hoping for a full reconciliation was asking too much of Spock tonight, yet he would assist him however he could so that they might find some measure of harmony between them; it was the best possible outcome he could hope for at this juncture.

"Father, I cannot reconcile my attitude toward you with what I have intuited to be a much different relationship than that which existed before Vulcan was destroyed." _And mother lost_, his son finished with his eyes.

"I see." It was no different than what he had suspected, yet Sarek was unsure how to respond. They could not meld because of the distance, they could only sense one another's presence and he attempted to send Spock some peace. He wanted to show his son that he bore him no ill-will for speaking his mind—he freely deserved the censure that was years in coming.

* * *

><p>He waited until she was asleep to make the call. Spock could not bear to be parted from her any longer than was necessary but this was a conversation he wanted to conduct privately, so he waited until Nyota was deep in her REM cycle to approach the comm. His father appeared tense as he answered—or rather, that was the emotion he ascribed to him as the call was connected. Tonight Spock sought to test the boundaries of their relationship and he did so with a single word.<p>

"Sa-mekh." There was a pause and for a moment he wondered if nothing had really changed. Perhaps Sarek had been 'putting on an act' for Nyota all this time and he kept up the pretense that their relationship was mended simply to keep her happy—after all, his actions were not without precedence; it was exactly what they had done for his mother's sake after he went to the Academy.

"Sa-fu."

Spock had planned for this conversation—had even gone so far as to initiate it and had worked out all variable responses—and yet he was at a loss as to how to go forward. The situation was resolved when his adun'a shifted in her sleep audibly enough for his father to have heard. Sarek's head tilted a fraction to the left; yes, he was aware of her presence. Good. His wife was common ground, and truly it was her numerous, passing references to Sarek that prompted him to consider making the call in the first place.

"Nyota speaks of you often, although I believe that she still censors much of her speech wherever you are concerned; however, on the occasions when you do come up in conversation she speaks very highly of you."

Was that the light or were the tips of his father's ear looking a little green at the praise? "She is an uncommon woman."

"Yes, she is."

Not for the first time since dialing his father's line he wondered what Sarek was thinking. The bond was but a tendril—enough to let the other know they were there but not enough to overpower. Given his emotional upheaval in recent days Spock had kept the connection tamped down even more. It was irrational and yet he still harbored a great deal of anger toward his father and whenever Sarek's name came up those heated emotions tended to flare, no matter what was said about him. Tonight he tapped into the bond in an attempt to resolve these larger issues as well as uncover Sarek's current state of mind. All Spock could sense was his father's anxiety but he was unable to determine the root cause.

Perhaps if he addressed the real reason for his call they could both find some relief. "I find I am…conflicted. My…" Sarek stared back, impassive as ever, but his anxiety trilled up Spock's spine as he left the thought unfinished, almost too ashamed to speak.

"Speak, Spock."

This was getting too emotional, too out of hand. He was ill-equipped to confront his father, not this way and certainly not tonight. "That would not be prudent," he demurred.

"What is necessary is never unwise, Spock. Speak."

Why did that phrase sound so familiar? And, dare he think it, but did his father sound _hopeful_ as he offered up this wisdom? A quick glance at Sarek revealed nothing but perhaps it would be best for them to take this opportunity to speak freely; there may not be many others in the future. "I cannot reconcile my attitude toward you with what I have intuited to be a much different relationship than that which existed before Vulcan was destroyed." _And mother lost_, he finished mentally.

"I see." Sarek propped his elbows up on the desk and steepled his fingers in deep thought. Eyes darting over to Spock they fixated on his face a moment before his whole posture changed and his hands fell back to the desk. "It is understandable…and it is also regrettable."

He stiffened in his seat. Was he hearing him correctly?

"Yes," Sarek said as if in answer to his unspoken question. "I have regrets." He finally looked up and caught his son's eye. "This new life," he gestured to the sparse room around him, "Has not only shown me the error of my ways but the senselessness of my past actions where you and your mother were concerned."

Spock did not believe him; indeed, he wished Nyota were awake now to pinch him only to prove that he was having a human moment and was dreaming. "Regrets are not logical," he felt compelled to remind him.

"No they are not," his father replied, "And yet they exist; just like you exist, against all odds; just like my feelings for your mother exist even after her death."

He must terminate the communication and attempt to reach a Healer on New Vulcan. Sarek was living alone and suffering from Bendii Syndrome* with no one around to recognize the early warning signs. The dark circles under his eyes, his gaunt face, the free emotional expression…he was wasting away and waxing philosophical right before his eyes. How had he missed this before? "You are not well. You do not know what you are saying. You need medical attention."

* * *

><p>He was trying—he was trying <em>so <em>hard to give his son what he wanted, an honest discussion...and yet all Spock wanted to do was call in a Healer. His eyes flashed dangerously at the very idea.

"I am not ill. I merely speak the truth."

Sarek willed his rage away.

Tonight he wished he could be more like Amanda, so quick to forgive but more importantly so quick to forget. Past wrongs were easily forgotten by her and yet his eidetic memory troubled him nearly every moment of every day, either by remembering her in minute detail or recalling the injustices his son suffered due to his indifference. As it was impossible for him to forget he would use tonight to redress past wrongs.

"Your…_anger_…toward me is understandable, Spock. Too many times in your life I let logic dictate how I interacted with you, how I reacted to you as you grew. As your father I should have handled matters differently."

Spock tilted his head to the side in an attitude that mimicked his own. His outrage that had been billowing up just under the surface was undeniable now. "Are you suggesting that you should have treated me as inferior because of my humanity?"

"No," he answered quietly, his head hung low. "I am stating that I should have taken a more active role in your upbringing because you are my son; that you are the best parts of your mother is something I should have exalted, not repressed, and the Vulcan community should have respected you both as well as recognized you specifically for your merits instead of undermining you due to your heritage."

Staring his son straight in the eye he said, "You are unique, Spock, for so many reasons that have nothing to do with your genetic make-up."

How humans behaved like this—and on a daily basis, no less—was beyond his understanding. Emoting in this manner was severely exhausting. As he contemplated the situation further Sarek watched his son continue to stare at him as wave after wave of shock rippled across the bond; whether Spock was pleased or distressed by this unexpected turn of events he could not say. "I have attempted to convey these sentiments to you before over the course of our previous conversations; however, your recent experiences on Anguillida have negated my efforts, thereby necessitating me to be more forthright with my…_feelings_…than in the past."

He sighed again and took a deep breath, opting to lay out his deepest fear and most sincere hope all in one fell swoop. "I do not wish for the day to come where I am gone and you too harbor regrets over issues left unresolved between us. There is much I would tell your mother now, were she alive, and it is lamentable that she passed without ever hearing those words and more from my lips. This may not be the Vulcan way of handling such matters but it is the new Vulcan way and I am embracing it."

* * *

><p>For the first time in his life Spock felt vindicated by his father and yet the moment was tinged with grief. Would that his mother were alive to see such a day come to pass.<p>

And yet, he reasoned upon further reflection, she had always known that this was how his father felt. As his bondmate she was privy to all but his most private inner thoughts and perhaps that was why, throughout his life, she always sought to explain away or apologize for Sarek's actions; she attempted to put into words that which his father could not easily express.

Looking back at the screen he caught his father scrutinizing him for any hint of expression—not to pass judgment for a sign of weakness, as Spock would have thought in the past, but to see whether there was hope for their relationship going forward.

It was a…_curious_ sensation, being in a conversation with Sarek and having his logic prevail; and despite the man's apparent contrition Spock was not quite ready to release his anger. The resentment had been years in the making; he did not believe he could let it go so easily.

"You stated that we have conversed before. How many times have we spoken since the _Enterprise _began her latest mission?"

Sarek's reply was swift. "Not including your call this evening or the time that has elapsed since your accident we have spoken exactly 218 times since your ship left Earth's orbit."

That meant that they had spoken on average once every 5.1 days, an unprecedented feat given the previous decade of relative estrangement. The longer he dwelt on this fact the more Spock found himself drifting back to a memory of him and his mother when he was 8.16 years old.

_She found him in the garden, toiling away in the soil instead of applying himself to the much-discussed science project set up in his room. He listened as his mother trod over to him slowly through the rows, her robes grazing the first of the blooms from her rose bushes before nearing the vegetable patch. He continued to work even as he sensed her staring at his back until her voice broke the silence._

_"I forgive you, Spock."_

_He turned to look at her and squinted as her face was framed by the sun. "I did not ask for your forgiveness, Mother."_

_She sighed and ruffled his hair while biting her lips together, a motion he had come to recognize whenever she became frustrated by him or his father. "Maybe you didn't say it, Sweetheart, but your actions did and I want you to know that you're forgiven. You can stop now, you've paid your penance."_

_Inwardly he was relieved to hear this and yet could not refrain from stating again that he did not ask for nor need her forgiveness; he was about to do just that when she stopped him by pressing her fingers to his lips. He felt a twinge of sadness across the connection but mostly he recognized the emotions signaling the release of her anger—and more importantly her abiding love for him._

_"I __know__ you think you don't need to hear it but this isn't just about you; I need to say it too, otherwise I'll sit and fester over why you dismantled my stasis unit when I expressly told you not to and it'll just make me feel worse."_

_A guilty blush crept to his cheeks even as he fought to tamp it down. She had not __expressly__ forbidden him from undertaking the study of the machinery he found so fascinating; that it happened to reside in the stasis unit was merely a coincidence… _

Spock looked up at his father again. He had not asked for it and yet he too was seeking forgiveness by laying bare his faults in a most human-like way. Anger was just as irrational as regret and yet there the two S'Chn T'gai men were, each feeling just that. Their reconciliation would be a testament to his mother and how much they each loved her…

It would be her legacy.

He decided to test this conclusion by way of invitation.

"Doctor McCoy anticipates that our daughter will be born in approximately 22 weeks. Should you have any business that would take you within the vicinity of the _Enterprise_ at that time perhaps you would consider stopping aboard."

Only if pressed would he ever admit to noticing the slight up tick of his father's mouth as understanding dawned.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.170, 0702 hours. **She awoke with her hand splayed out beside her and fingers pressed down onto smooth, cold sheets. Stirring, Nyota pulled herself semi-upright and looked about for her husband, finding him sitting and reading a PADD on the opposite side of the room. She smiled in remembrance of many such mornings spent just like this, and although she was no longer able to slip stealthily out of bed she made her way over to him for a good morning kiss nonetheless.

He broke away from his reading to meet her lips and gently pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arm holding the PADD about the waist while his free hand twined with hers. The bond was electric, full of white-hot, pulsing curiosity and astonishment, and Nyota glanced over to see what had so captivated his interest.

"'The New Vulcan News'?" Spock nodded as she crinkled her brow. "Have you been up reading this all night?"

"Negative; I have been working my way through back issues of the periodical since 0335 this morning. I find the format of the paper, as well as the news it disseminates, to be most intriguing. For instance, Vulcan periodicals formerly did not allocate time, space and resources to recording birth announcements, and obituaries were reserved only for the passing of our most revered elders." He pointed to a column of glyphs and she noted the birth of 36 new children in the community some 5 months back. "Also, the advertising of goods and services, while not impractical…"

She rolled her eyes and gently placed a hand on his cheek, stopping him mid-speech and guiding his gaze back her way. "And what, pray tell, prompted you to wade into the pools of Vulcan journalism at such an early hour?"

"My conversation with Sarek this morning occasioned me to become more interested in the happenings of the colony. He also suggested that I might…"

Her eyes bugged out and she shifted in his lap. "Wait, wait, wait; _you_ spoke with _Sarek_?"

His amusement pulsed across the bond at her reaction. "Yes. I have already said as much."

"_And_?"

Spock's eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch. "And it was a most—_satisfactory_ conversation."

Nyota leaned in close so now their foreheads were also touching. _"Satisfactory?" she asked._

_His mind lit up in a smile. "Yes, Nyota—__most__ satisfactory."_

_She didn't want to press him for details but Spock did show her a few glimpses from their hour long talk; as he did so she felt an ache in her chest lessen. She hadn't realized until then that the strained relationship between the pair had burdened her almost as much as his anger toward Sarek had upset him._

_Unintentionally, Nyota's thoughts trailed back to her own conversation with Sarek the day she informed him she was expecting. A new wave of awe—this time from Spock—washed over her, the depth of his father's feelings for them and for their family resonating deep._

_"Yes, Ashayam*," she said, "He cares for us more than we can possibly know. I'm glad you now know it too."_

Spock nodded, equally pleased, and leaned in to kiss her. It was some time before she decided she'd had her fill of his lips and when they were through she snuggled up against him in a post-make out stupor. "As I previously stated, Sarek suggested I acquaint myself with news of the colony so that if the opportunity ever arose to visit the settlement I would be up-to-date on all culturally important events." Somewhat as an afterthought he added, "I also have secondary and tertiary motivations for perusing 'The New Vulcan News'."

* * *

><p>Spock marveled at his life as his adun'a settled herself against him, her love humming across the bond and intoxicating him like so many pieces of chocolate. Carefully, so as not to upset her seat, he set the PADD on the side table and draped his arm about her waist.<p>

"I also have secondary and tertiary motivations for perusing 'The New Vulcan News'."

"Oh?" He could feel her smile bloom against the side of his neck. "And what are they?"

"I am attempting to locate a Healer, one traveling in the vicinity of the _Enterprise _now or in the coming weeks. If one can be found then I would seek to engage their services in order to reconstitute the bond between us." Spock paused as her astonishment and affection roared across his palm. Teasingly, he looked down at her and asked, "Does this please you?"

"Yes," she breathed out in a heady whisper. "Very much."

"Good. It pleases me as well." He held her ardent gaze and her look smoldered a more primitive desire within him until he found himself loathe to suggest they ready themselves for duty.

"What was the other reason?" she finally asked.

"The other reason?" As if he needed another reason to want to re-forge the bond with her…

"That you were looking at the paper. You said you had another reason."

"That would be correct." Spock looked down at her left hand and, more specifically, the ring she wore. "I have also sought out the services of a jeweler. I understand why I did not commission a wedding band for myself at the time of our bonding yet I seek to remedy this oversight as soon as possible. I have no desire for us to find ourselves in similar circumstances ever again and seek a ring that is in likeness to your own, that way all who see it will know that I am yours just as you are mine."

She crushed her lips to his, her arousal instantly apparent, undoing him with her passion. Spock felt heat surge the entire length of his body as he rose from the chair, gathering her up in his arms and moving swiftly across the room to lay her back on the bed. Carefully positioning himself over her he watched as her breaths came in short, excited gasps as he tantalizingly ran a hand up the side of her leg until his fingers came to the waistband of her pants.

"Nyota…"

He wanted her—badly—but did not want to push; as she liked to remind him they had only reconciled 3.89 days ago and had not been intimate since prior to his injury. He was painfully reminded of that fact by the growing bulge in his pants as it rubbed against the uncompromising fabric of his briefs.

"Spock," she moaned, hips rising up to meet him, "Please…"

It was all the invitation he needed.

He wanted to spend hours worshipping her, tasting her, _pleasing_ her…unfortunately they did not have that kind of time. As it were they were still 11.2 minutes late reporting for shift _without_ suitable notice or explanation. The Captain took one look at them as they exited the lift and Nyota instantly flushed and looked away. Kirk actually grinned before winking as he met Spock's gaze, muttering, "You sly dog, you," under his breath.

He would never understand James T. Kirk no matter how long he lived.

* * *

><p>*Sa-fu = Vulkhansu, son<p>

*Bendii Symdrome = A Vulcan condition where emotional control is eventually stripped away

*Ashayam = Vulkhansu, Beloved


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** Happy Father's Day! To any and all fathers out there who might be readin thank you for doing all that you do.

On an unrelated note I only recently finished Chapter 15 and am still working on 16 but haven't had much time lately because of my new school schedule..._sooo_ I will update again as soon as I can.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2261.225, 1709 hours.**The one abiding memory he would take away from this particular episode, he thought angrily, was that the electrode on his right temple itched more than the electrode on his left. Even now when he was free to scratch as he pleased Spock still refrained from touching the last remnants of the adhesive residue still on his skin.

The premise of the experiment had been simple; utilizing compound Celera460B, Spock endured once-daily injections and then was observed by Doctor McCoy as he studied a series of images compiled for him by the Doctor and Nyota. Oftentimes the pictures appeared to be sheer nonsense—a Terran clown, a blue house near a waterway, an alien piece of fruit—but more often then not they were somehow connected to events from his past. The point of the trial was to gauge his reaction when the images were ones he should recognize and determine whether the Celera460B was helping his neural pathways re-form.

For lack of a better term Spock 'flashed' on a handful of pictures over the last 30 days yet the more he tried to focus and flesh out the details of these alleged memories the more they slipped away, like so much sand sifting through his fingers. These brief moments of clarity were never noted on any of McCoy's equipment and Spock was left wondering whether they ever really happened in the first place or if he was merely succumbing to a placebo effect.

Another irritant, and one that was decidedly greater than the electrode adhesive had been, was that Lieutenant Marks chose _not_ to partake in this new trial. Seeing as how his colleague had only lost 9.18 days of his memory compared to Spock's 3.72 years it was logical that he would decline the opportunity; he was, in fact, coping very well with the gap and had no desire to subject himself to procedures whose outcome was dubious at best. That Lieutenants Marks' absence was reasonable did nothing to ease Spock's troubled mind, especially when as of 4.33 minutes ago Doctor McCoy declared the Celera trials closed. The results (or lack thereof) did not warrant further testing.

Another attempt; another failure.

Of course, the Doctor insisted that they had not failed, they had merely uncovered 44 possible cures that did not work. His cautious optimism was not helpful in the slightest nor did it alleviate Spock's own frustrations.

And now he was striding down the halls at a brisk pace to return to his quarters.

It was true that he had been more centered since his reconciliation with Nyota but the lack of progress in reversing his memory loss was truly provoking, especially after setbacks like these. In an undignified fit he entered their rooms and slammed the door shut behind him, his only outward conciliation to his anger. His wife was still on the bridge and would be for the next 46.8 minutes; he would do well to use this time in deep meditation. Stalking over to the wall he turned the thermostat up then stripped out of his uniform, roughly pulling on his meditation pants and settling down before the firepot.

Closing his eyes Spock turned inward, the flames of his emotions flickering and rising higher as he attempted to center himself. Why were the treatments not working? Why could he not remember his past? Better still, why was he the one most adversely affected?

More than anything he wanted the bond re-forged, wanted to _be_ with his a'duna in the purely Vulcan way. They had come a long way since their marriage was disclosed to him yet there were still moments of uncertainty, times when they were awkward and unsure of each other as if the relationship were brand new. The past was there just beyond his reach, teasing him with a comfortable closeness with Nyota that had to have existed in order for them to bond, let alone create a child. He yearned for that intense connection more with each passing day.

Achieving calm through meditation was proving ineffective and so Spock rose and paced the length of the room. He did not want his wife to return home and see him this agitated, not in her current condition, and there was only 13.9 minutes left until she returned home from shift. Though he was loathe to be apart from her any longer than necessary perhaps the gymnasium would offer some relief…

It was then that he spied his ka'athyra case sitting abandoned in the corner. He had not played his harp since that evening in 5 Forward. Upon reflection, perhaps some music now might help soothe his troubled mind as much as it had then. Sitting on the sofa he took the instrument out and settled it on his lap, plucking a few chords to test the pitch. Even as a young child Spock appreciated the feel of the fine, sanded wood and the tensile nylon strings that fairly hummed under his fingers. The dichotomy of the materials and the harmonious sounds they produced resonated deep within him.

He wanted to give himself over to that sensation again now.

No sooner was he about to start on his unnamed composition then the front door opened and a gust of cool air rushed in. Nyota stepped inside as quickly as she could, sweat already forming on her brow, then looked in his direction with a frown on her face. "What's wrong?"

"What would lead you to the conclusion that something is wrong?"

She gave him a knowing grin and stepped forward, placing a tender hand on his shoulder. "Never play poker against me, Ashayam. I know your tells." Her fingers trailed along his shoulder as she pulled away, headed toward the bedroom. Automatically, Spock rose and followed her, intrigued.

"Tells?"

A muffled laugh was all he heard as she pulled her uniform shirt off over her head. "Yes, tells. You only ever increase the heat to something resembling Vulcan normal when you're really upset." Nyota shot him a look that told him it would be wise not to argue in the face of her logic. "So why don't you simply tell me what's wrong?"

Wordlessly Spock dropped to one knee to assist her in the removal of her boots. Teasing the zipper he gently tugged off first one, then the other, while she ruffled his hair and played with the tips of his ears. As small a service as this was to her and to their daughter he garnered a great deal of pleasure from it and slowly leaned forward to kiss Nyota's protruding belly button and caress her stomach.

"Ahh, you tease!" she moaned. Running her hands down his bare shoulders she opened up the bond. _"Spock, please, let me help you. Tell me what's going on."_

Suppressing a sigh he stilled and turned to rest his cheek on her abdomen. "Doctor McCoy has cancelled all future Celera trials. The injections have proven ineffective."

Much as he tried to wall it up Spock knew he was still projecting his disappointment. Nyota immediately stopped her teasing and drew him up to sit beside her, cradling him in her arms. _"Don't hold back," she whispered against his thoughts. _

_"It would not be wise…" _Spock had no intention of burdening her with his despair; indeed, she had enough weight on her shoulders already, both literally and figuratively. He would shield her from this.

But bit-by-bit Nyota chipped away at his already-worn defenses. Whether he was the one trembling with rage or she he could not discern but by the time the episode past they were lying back on the bed curled towards each other and utterly spent.

_"How long have you felt this way?" she asked as they recovered. Spock could fairly hear her mind whirring with fresh thoughts of revenge against the Anguillidan 'scientists'._

_ "Do not…" Nyota shot him a look of ire and he realized it would be unwise to urge her to desist. Instead he answered her question and showed her the moment Kirk and McCoy informed him of his condition._

_ "Spock…" In the waking world he felt cool hands stroke the sides of his face as she nudged a little harder at his temple. "I'm so, so sorry. We'll find a way to reverse this, we really will." Unintentionally he let slip his doubts as to the veracity of her statement. "And even if we don't we'll make it work, you'll see. You have to believe that."_

"I do." Whether it was logical or not to believe in her fervent declaration was another matter entirely. The sound of his voice made her open her eyes so that even if he had not been able to feel the love he could see it staring back at him in two deep, brown, reflective pools. Once he was sufficiently recovered Spock rose to retrieve some dinner for them from the stasis.

"Can you pass me my shirt please?" she asked on his way out.

The shirt in question, a grossly oversized garment recently purchased while in space dock for supplies, was generally issued to members of the Tindutu race who averaged three times the size of a Terran male. The fabric used was also fairly unique: a soft, breathable Orion cotton not normally found this far out in space. Those facts appealed to Nyota and made the shirt ideal off-duty loungewear for his adun'a. Reaching into the dresser he pulled the item out and handed it to her before leaving the room.

As he removed 2 vegetarian meals he heard her plod out into the living room and stop by the sofa, casually plucking a few strings on his ka'athyra. "You haven't played in awhile," she remarked as he set their food down on the kitchen table.

"No, I have not."

"Maybe you could be persuaded to play for me tonight?"

Nyota grinned as she sashayed over to him, sitting down and allowing him to push in her chair, and the corners of his mouth turned up ever-so-slightly at the pleasing prospect. "Perhaps."

* * *

><p>Tears were brimming in her eyes as he finished, the last notes fading away in the stillness and privacy of their quarters. She wouldn't have thought it possible but somehow he managed to play 'K'diwa Yel' with even more enthusiasm than before. It was the most moving private performance they'd ever enjoyed in the whole of their relationship.<p>

There was only one thing troubling her.

"Spock?"

He lifted his head expectantly as he closed the ka'athyra case. "Yes, k'diwa?"

The smile almost reached her eyes; if this were anybody but him... "Funny you should say that…" His utter confusion took the humor right out of her. "Ok, maybe not. Spock, I think we need to pay Len a visit."

He looked momentarily horrified at the prospect but quickly resumed his carefully neutral expression. "Why?"

She stopped chewing on her lower lip. "Because this song…this is going to sound vain, but you wrote it for _me_—_after_ we boarded the _Enterprise_."

One eyebrow rose. "That is incorrect."

Oh _really_? He was questioning _her _memory now? "I think I'd remember something like this. You named the piece 'K'diwa Yel' and told me you wrote it for me."

Spock considered that as he set the harp case aside. "Fascinating..."

She smirked. "Indeed. Now if you'll help me get up we can…"

"Yet, you are still incorrect." Nyota's heart sank as he sat down beside her. "I began composing 'K'diwa Yel', as you have called it, 4.42 years ago back at the Academy."

Did he really just say that he hadn't written the song for her, that he'd mis-led her about it's origins for all these years? Nyota took a deep breath to smother her sigh. Really, it was so stupid in the grand scheme of things—she knew Spock loved her and after all, it _was_ just a song—but for some reason she couldn't mask her hurt. If her math was right then she'd been his student for over a year but she'd only been his TA for about a semester and he couldn't have written the piece for her—they barely knew each other then. "Oh," she mumbled, crestfallen. "My mistake." She started to rise and get ready for bed.

"However," he interjected, reaching for her wrist as she struggled off the sofa, "You are correct in thinking that this piece was composed for you. It was." He held her hand in his and pushed his love across the bond.

"But I don't understand…"

"Nyota, there is a notion that I would like to disabuse you of, one that I should have spoken up about much sooner."

"Oh?"

Spock nodded. "Previously, you stated that as of 2257.115 your relationship to me was that of 'a cadet on a campus full of cadets'; it was this belief that led you to keep our marriage a secret from me. In point of fact you were incorrect."

"I was?"

He nodded. "While I was not fully cognizant of the depth of my—_feelings_—for you at that time, you had numerous favorable qualities that garnered my attention and respect, far more than any other cadet or colleague of my acquaintance. It was 9.68weeks before that date that I began arranging the piece you now know as 'K'diwa Yel'."

She gasped as he added, "To borrow a wholly human concept you were, in effect, my muse."

Nyota blinked hard then stared at him for what felt like an eternity. She'd had no idea…even after their bonding he'd never told her… His eyes held a question in their gaze and she nodded; with his free hand Spock reached for her meld points.

_"It is my intention to never again let you question my love. You have had my heart since the beginning though I never betrayed that fact in look or deed. I will never have another, k'diwa; there is only you." She watched as he replayed every moment he'd ever spent in her company, from her first day in his class to the day before his memory wipe and all the days he could recall since. Not for the last time she found herself in awe of him._

_ "If I only knew…Spock, I'm so sorry, I never would've let you believe for so long that you and I…that we weren't…that you were…"_

_ "Hush. I cherish thee, Nyota. Do not ever doubt that again." _

His words soothed her even more than their reconciliation had. She was his Beloved; always had been, always would be.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.290, 2133 hours. **Nyota brushed away at her hair, her lips pulled tight in an angry line. Who she was truly angry _at_—herself, Kirk or Spock—remained in question. At least Len (in deed if not in word) allowed for the possibility that her husband might _feel_ anything less than excited when they presented the news to him. Still, if she'd just thought for a split-second before speaking up…or if Kirk didn't look so damn giddy the whole time…

Or if Spock would just _admit _to being apprehensive and talk to her now instead of burying himself in his research...

Heaving a sigh she set the brush down and stared at herself long and hard in the mirror. A few hours ago they were setting up the nursery, blissfully content. Now though…well she hadn't been this unsettled since the full scope of Spock's amnesia had been revealed.

_"I got a call from a buddy of mine this morning," the Captain began, waltzing through the door uninvited and plopping himself down in an armchair. Sharing a look of forbearance with her adun he helped settle her on the couch before offering McCoy a seat. Len gave her the once over as if he hadn't just seen her that morning for a check-up then they all turned their attention back to Jim who was fairly bouncing around in his seat. _

_ "His name's Stellan Sigurson, Captain of the _U.S.S. Lexington_. He and I go way back." Most likely recollecting their shared past Academy exploits she watched Kirk suppress a grin. "Anyhow, he's one of the few who know about…uh…" here he looked uncomfortably at Spock as he pointed to his own forehead. Discretion regarding Spock's condition had been paramount and very few knew more than the rudimentary details of the disastrous away mission on Anguillida; but if Jim trusted this man then she knew they could too. "And he told me something interesting about the Kerralians we're meeting up with in a couple days, something that isn't part of the official diplomatic record."_

_ With roughly a month to go before her due date she was on full maternity leave and had very little hand in the day-to-day operations of the ship; however, Spock had shared with her what he knew about their upcoming mission earlier that afternoon. The Kerrali people were new members to the Federation, humanoid in appearance save for the cone-shaped heads and the men's mustaches and beards, the lengths of which signaled their status in society. They were also quite tall, the population on average standing a full meter taller than most humans, and were similar to Vulcans in their peaceable nature and telepathic abilities. _

_ Spock had been intrigued and eager to meet them since their debriefing; she would've been too, if it were safe for her to travel off-ship. She knew she would simply have to settle for his account of the _Enterprise's _first contact until she had her own opportunity to meet them in the future._

_ "There's a holy place on the southern half of the continent called the Temple of Qua'lash. It's a place of healing."_

_ Her head snapped up and she locked eyes with Kirk. Was he suggesting what she thought he was?_

_ Len cleared his throat and threw his 2 credits in. "The _Lexington_ had an ensign in Engineering who came down with Rigellian blood fever while they were in orbit. Normally it's treatable but this was a particularly virulent strain…"_

_ "And somehow the Kerralians knew that Stell had an ill crewmember on his hands. Members of the delegation offered to take her to the Temple to be healed," Jim interjected, eyes alight with hope._

_ McCoy grimaced but kept his opinions to himself. To her, his reticence was very telling; for while he may have harbored the same hope as Jim he was also looking at the situation practically too. "Now I've looked over all the reports Michael Dieringer, their CMO, sent me. From what I gather this young woman wouldn't have lasted more than another 36 hours or so; modern medicine had done all it could do. Captain Sigurson consented to let her be treated by the Kerralians and they transported her down to the surface. The ensign was carried into the Temple on a stretcher and 7 hours later she walked out on her own 2 legs—assisted, of course, but on her own 2 legs nonetheless._

_ "By Dieringer's own admission the girl should've died but today she's back to full health and workin' like she'd never contracted the virus in the first place."_

_ She watched McCoy watch Spock out of the corner of his eye but her husband didn't so much as even twitch an eyebrow. Looking back on the moment later she knew she should have recognized the signs but she was so caught up in what her friends were saying she overlooked his growing apprehension._

_ "The only trouble is…"_—_aha, a catch, she knew there had to be a catchv"nobody knows what was done to cure the ensign because the priests insisted on treating her behind closed doors," Jim informed them. "The ensign doesn't seem to remember much either. In fact, her only real memory is of the color blue."_

_ She was shocked. If that was all there was to it… "But she was still healed." "Yes."_

_ Excitedly she reached out and took hold of Spock's hand only to find the bond severely dulled. He was shielding her from his thoughts rather fiercely; the only thing Nyota knew for certain was that Len and Jim's news wasn't as welcome to him as it was to her._

_ "We don't even know if they'll offer to treat you," Len said almost as an afterthought. _

_ Giving his friend a sideways glance Jim added, "But assuming they'll extend the same hospitality to us that they did to the _Lexington_ we wanted you to know in advance. We just came from talking to Lt. Marks and he told us he isn't interested—and that's fine, that's his choice. If you don't want to consider it either then just let us know and none of us will bring it up when we beam down." Even as he spoke the words she could tell that that wasn't the answer Kirk really wanted to hear. If anyone wanted Spock back the way he was as much as she did it was Jim._

_ It was here that her joy at the prospect of a cure got the better of her. "Of course we want the chance to let them—!" Her speech was cut short when Spock unceremoniously dropped her hand and shot up from the sofa. _

_ "I will carefully consider my options. Doctor McCoy, if you would forward Doctor Dieringer's findings to my console it would be much appreciated."_

_ Len and Jim looked anxiously at one another but all were too stunned by Spock's dismissal to form any kind of intelligent reply. "Of course," Len agreed as he rose and headed for the door, Jim hot on his heels. No sooner had Spock shown them out then he hastened to his computer and began pulling up all the data he could find on the Kerralians and their purported healing powers._

_ Closing her eyes she took several deep breaths. She knew even before the door closed behind her friends that she'd really screwed up. "Do you want to talk about this?" she asked the back of his head._

_ "There is insufficient data to discuss this matter at this time," Spock replied, not moving one iota from his perch. _

He didn't speak to her for the rest of the evening—in fact he never even left his chair. The steamed vegetables and tofu loaf she left for him on the side table were barely touched and his tea was only half gone.

Retreating into the facts and figures like this…well it was typical Spock but it also told her he was more spooked than even _she_ realized.

What Nyota couldn't figure out was _why_ he was afraid. The Kerralians were nothing like the Anguillidans; besides, he couldn't remember his encounter with them anyway, so why would such thoughts upset him now?

_Was _it as simple as all that or was there something more wrong with her adun? Just how much wasn't he telling her?

With more questions than answers Nyota slipped into bed and fell asleep much later in the night knowing there wasn't anything to do until Spock let her in; however, the time only gave her more reasons to hate herself for giving him reason to shut her out.

* * *

><p>He had not been this frightened since the evening of Nyota's collapse and the fact that Spock could attest to this with the utmost certainty made his fear even more pronounced. The memory—a passing one as he and the Captain disengaged from their mind meld—was one he believed he had successfully repressed...<p>

…until now.

Suddenly he was consumed by the image of himself, defenseless, bloody and unconscious, strapped to a table with an ominous looking needle aimed squarely at the center of his forehead, his captain and friend frantically working to free him as an Anguillidan scientist moaned and writhed on the floor.

Captain Kirk had not wanted him to see this—indeed, Spock would not have wanted to glimpse such an image if given the choice—but the transmission was unconsciously done.

He had been violated in one of the worst ways imaginable, and one of the only benefits to his amnesia was that he had no recollection of the mind rape that befell him...until the moment he saw it in the Captain's mind.

Had he fought against his captors? Most likely he had, though how they managed to subdue him was beyond his reckoning. The fact that they had conquered him, however, only contributed to his growing alarm, for if it happened once it could happen again.

The Captain's seeming willingness to hand him over to the Kerralians for treatment increased his panic ten-fold; that Nyota was unwitting of his distress and emphatically accepting said potential aide on his behalf taxed him almost to the breaking point.

Doctor McCoy alone remained sensible throughout the entire discourse. This fact was also disconcerting; not that Spock was not grateful for the man's level-headedness but it was atypical behavior for the physician. Had he not been so upset he would likely have been very alarmed by this turn of events alone.

In his heart of hearts Spock knew Nyota only wanted what was best for him. Recovering his memories was also what he desired; however, she had no knowledge of how truly loathe he was to place himself and his health in the hands of another unknown species. That the Kerralians appeared to be peaceful was not enough of a guarantee and what he needed to reassure himself right now were cold, hard facts. More than meditation he needed the certainty that only numbers could give.

Bidding his colleagues good night Spock settled himself before his computer to await the Doctor's reports, his pounding heartbeat humming in his ears.

"Do you want to talk about this?"

His adun'a spoke quietly yet he heard her well. The truth was that he did not want to discuss such matters with her as he was ashamed by the fact that he could not control his irrational fear. He could not bear the shame that would accompany such an admission his weakness would bring, nor could he stand the pity she would likely display as a result.

"There is insufficient data to discuss this matter at this time."

For the next 6.55 hours he sat at his console in studious silence. There was little information to be had and yet what there was he pored over until he was a veritable fountain of Kerralian knowledge…

…and yet his fears were not assuaged. Despite the fact that the Kerralians had proven themselves time and again to be nothing but trustworthy and honest people Spock was not moved.

He wanted to be cured and have the bond re-constituted, he just did not want it to come about this way. As much as Spock did not believe in the idea of 'Fate' he did not want to 'tempt' it either. His adun'a was just now nearing the end of her term. He had missed the early months of her pregnancy as a result of his accident and their own shared folly. Was he willing to potentially risk missing the birth of their child and her first months of life on the 5.87% chance he might be cured? It simply wasn't sound. Why would he sacrifice the future to reclaim such a small (albeit important) portion of his past?

Spock rose from the computer and stretched his stiff frame, unable to ease his troubled mind (the same mind, he thought somewhat ironically, which was the source of all his current trouble). Resisting the urge to adjust the thermostat he instead divested himself of his uniform and crawled into bed beside Nyota who was fast asleep.

Curling an arm around her, feeling her cool body nestled against his, he realized how fortunate he was to find love with her not once but twice. Nyota could have found better mates, human mates, yet she chose him. While he privately conceded that yes, in light of this recent dilemma her reasoning may have been flawed, she believed herself to be acting in his best interests and that knowledge more than made up for the heartache she had unintentionally caused. Nyota loved with her whole being; that he was the direct recipient of that affection awed him daily.

Spock began to nod off when he returned to the problem at hand again. Were a painless Kerralian cure assured he would accept it in the space of a breath; as it was he did not want to risk losing the love of his life who was just now safely ensconced in his arms.

* * *

><p><em>He stood at parade rest some 5 meters away from Nyota, the L-langon mountains off in the distance over her shoulder. How and why they were on Vulcan was a mystery, one he chose not to ponder in favor of endeavoring to discover just why she was glaring at him so contemptuously. Studying her as closely as he was he did not immediately detect another presence until a soft coo emitted from the ground halfway between them. There sat a child<em>—_their__ child, he surmised_—_holding onto the wooden sehlat he had crafted for her with her chubby little hands._

_ "Talk to me, Spock!" _

_ Nyota's shout arrested his attention again. He would gladly converse with her if given a topic to expound upon; however, judging by her demeanor he was uncertain that such a declaration as that was what she wanted to hear. _

_ Casting about for something to say he attempted to open his mouth only to find his lips clamped shut. That was a startling discovery in and of itself but if he could not speak then he would simply meld with her instead. With great effort he tried to walk to her, lifting first one foot then the other, but they too were rooted to the spot. The only muscles currently under his control were his nostrils which flared violently now as he struggled against invisible bonds._

_ "Why won't you saying anything! Why won't you talk to me?" Their daughter, too, stared at him in confusion over his extended silence. "We can't fix the problem if you won't even talk to me about it!" _

_ Nyota started impatiently tapping her foot when he still did not respond; even their child recognized the danger that single action foretold. She turned her worried eyes on him (so like her mother's) and he desperately sought to reach out and touch either of them to assure all was well. _

_ But he could not. His entire body was fused in it's rigid posture save for the frantic breaths coming in through his nose. What was it that paralyzed him, that kept him from reaching them?_

_ "She can't live like this, you know!" For the first time since this lopsided argument began Nyota gestured to their daughter, acknowledging her presence. "If you don't answer me," she threatened, "Then we're gone. I may have put up with the Vulcan silent treatment before but I refuse to stand by and watch my daughter suffer from it too!"_

_**NO!**__ It was the thing he feared most when he pondered his daughter's future. He wanted her to be able to live peacefully in both her parent's worlds, not be forced to choose between them as he had been forced to do. That Nyota was choosing __for__ their child and choosing __against__ him made the decision all the more painful. _

_ Their daughter began to wail and stretched her arms out toward him looking for comfort. Every instinct screamed at him to take her, hold her, show and tell her how much he loved her, but his traitorous body would not submit. _

_ With a shake of her head and exaggerated roll of the eyes Nyota stepped forward, scooped the infant up in her arms and calmly walked away, all while their daughter screamed and wriggled furiously in her grip._

_ "Sa-mekh! Sa-mekh! Sa-mekh!"_

_ Only when they were mere specks in the distance did he discover what was holding him back: fear. His fear had forced Nyota away, kept her from knowing his true mind. Realizing this his limbs instantly thawed and he took off at a dead sprint but it was too late; his family were too far gone._

Spock sat bolt upright in bed, eyes stinging with moisture and the arm around Nyota flung back in haste to prevent further contact.

The dream—no, the nightmare—was portentous and the message crystal clear. He should have learned before never to go to sleep in such an agitated emotional state nor to shut his adun'a out as completely as he had. Without hesitation he gently shook Nyota awake. There was much they needed to discuss.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **Happy 4th of July weekend to all the Americans! Hope you have a fun and safe holiday. And to everyone else I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

_** U.S.S. Enterprise,**_** Stardate 2261.293, 0745. **Though they'd spent the last 2 days deep in discussion on the subject and weighed all the pros and cons before finally reaching a decision it was still with a heavy heart that she walked beside him down the hall toward the transporter room, her hand nestled in the crook of his arm.

The reality of their situation was that there were no Healers traveling in the vicinity nor any new medical breakthroughs in the treatment of memory loss on the horizon. Their daughter was due to be born in a month. The timing and circumstances of this purported cure were too auspicious to pass up.

Spock's anxiety had eased somewhat but it hadn't completely dissipated—Nyota was aware of that much even without the bond. But after all was said and done, after everything was discussed (_to death_), it was a decision they each arrived at independently and fully supported.

Before they left that morning she'd stopped him in the doorway. He was immaculately dressed as always but she couldn't stop herself from fussing over his collar."It's alright if you get down there and change your mind," she reminded him. "We can always find another way."

She let her hands linger on his chest, feeling the heat of him and the strength of his muscles beneath her palms, committing it all to memory. Much as she believed he'd come back to her (if not fully cured then at least as he was) she wanted to be sure she remembered this moment completely. "You have my full support no matter what, and Jim's and Len's too."

He reached up then and took one of her hands in each of his, bringing them up to his lips one at a time and pressing a soft kiss into each, almost sending her into a swoon. "Understood." She was reluctant to let go as Spock transmitted his abiding love through the surface bond but the departure time was fast approaching.

All too soon they reached the transporter room. Kirk and McCoy were there along with 6 men and women from security, all locking their belts on their hips and readying themselves to beam down. The Captain grinned at their entrance while Len grumbled and tugged hard at his collar, muttering about it being too early to be dressed like a 'trussed up turkey.' Ordinarily the mundane comment from him would've elicited a chuckle from her but not today. Even if the security officers were unwitting the senior officers all knew what was truly at stake once they reached the surface.

"Uhura!" Jim announced playfully. Humor was always his first weapon of choice. "Come to see me off? Maybe give me a good-bye kiss?"

With a witty remark on her lips Spock surprised her by replying first. "Captain, your continued overtures toward my wife are as unwelcome as they are unbecoming. Also, I believe it is I who will be the recipient of any farewell kisses the Lieutenant wishes to bestow, not you."

The Captain flushed red to the tips of his ears and McCoy fairly crowed. "Ha! Hobgoblin got you in one, Jim!"

Beaming, Nyota escorted Spock over to the edge of the pad and did just as her husband suggested, clasping his face in her hands for one long, passionate kiss that he returned with equal ardor in full view of their colleagues. Though she struggled mightily to keep the tears at bay one salty trickle did slide down her cheek. He brushed it away with his thumb then took his place on the deck. "Be safe," she whispered.

"Always."

With a nod toward the engineer Kirk ordered them all to be energized.

"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular*," Spock called out as the familiar lights encompassed the group.

Smiling broadly at him as he de-materialized Nyota was surprised to hear Jim's disembodied voice cry out, "Hey! I think I know that one!"

* * *

><p>The night before they beamed down to the surface he did not sleep. This was not solely on account of nerves but also on account of his not wanting to miss a minute of laying there with his adun'a in his arms. Although the decision had been made before they retired he was uncharacteristically apprehensive and had taken to second-guessing himself once approximately every 12.49 minutes.<p>

Looking down at the crown of Nyota's head as she slept he leaned over and placed a soft kiss, luxuriating in the scent and feel of her against him, and attempted to put all else out of his mind. He especially tried not to think of the data chip taped to the back of the holoimage of the Suckow Convention. She would find it if and when the time came. He could not and would not take his leave of her again under such uncertain circumstances without making provisions beforehand—for her and for their child.

Contained in the data chip was a last Will and Testament he had composed the previous day. While not a legally binding document Spock wanted his wife and daughter to know that he had been thinking of them and making arrangements for them up until the last; he only hoped that when Nyota found it she understood that he had not written the document in anticipation of his death but was merely being pragmatic. He so dearly wanted to live, and with a baby on the way he could not afford to be anything less than sensible, yet even as he composed the document he hoped that she would never need to see it.

What requests he made in his Will were few and reasonable. He asked that his wife find a posting for herself on Earth where she could safely raise their daughter and, if possible, find occasion to take her to New Vulcan for visits with her extended Vulcan-family. He also asked her not to mourn his passing over-long and attempt to find happiness again with another. She had too much life, too much love to offer not to seek out a new mate and he would not begrudge her that, even in death.

He also told her how deeply he loved her, calling upon the great poets of every world and in every language at his disposal to show her that her affection was reciprocated. He would not allow her to question that ever again; it would not do for him to leave this world and have her think otherwise.

To his daughter (even as he carefully composed the letter he wished, however illogically, that his adun'a had settled on a name) he told her all his hopes and dreams for her, how he cherished her from the first moment he learned of her existence, how miraculous it was to know that a piece of him and Nyota could come together to create something so beautiful—for that is exactly what she was.

Spock bared his soul, sparing no emotions in these letters because they would be the only pieces that lived on for his wife and child after he was gone; they were his Katric Ark.

When Nyota started to stir in pre-wakefulness he rose from the bed and showered and dressed. Spock went through his morning ritual as if nothing were amiss, presenting as calm a front for Nyota's sake as he could, even as his heart fluttered wildly in his side. Before they left their quarters she stopped him and tugged at the fabric of his collar. He knew it was not because it needed straightening but because she disliked that he was walking into a fairly unknown situation and leaving her behind.

The kisses to her palms were as spontaneous as they were heartfelt.

Only in his last seconds on the _Enterprise _was he unable to contain his emotions any longer. "Taluhk nash-veh k'dular."

If they were the last words she ever heard him speak then it was a comfort to him that she knew his heart as well as his mind was always hers.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Capital City of Ni'Strell<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.293, 0358 (local time). **The nine members of the _Enterprise _crew re-materialized on the surface without incident and fanned out, scanning the immediate perimeter for any danger or anomalies. As he watched the red-shirted team make their way carefully through the waist-high grass Jim couldn't help but think of the flat plains of Iowa and, though it was warm, he shuddered.

Turning to look out over the distance he spied the rising spires of the capital city of Ni'Strell, a beautiful sight to behold and in sharp contrast to the field they found themselves in. The buildings were designed in such a way that they resembled the spiral wind chimes his mother used to hang out the back door and they looked like they could almost dance on the wind. The way the early morning light glinted off the metal and glass also suggested that they were as much alive as they were.

He looked back over his shoulder to hear Bones muttering about tardy welcomes and spied Spock staring toward the city with a tricorder in hand. "Captain, there are five life forms approaching from the northeast."

Eyes darting over to the spot Jim quickly located the delegates walking briskly in their direction, their heads bent and robes undulating against the rapid patter of their feet. He made out the leader, Ambassador Dieni, in the center, recognizing him not only by his great height but the length of his whiskers; his beard must have reached down to his waist at least, if not more. When they approached Jim locked eyes with the diplomat and bowed in genuflection. "Greetings. I am Captain James T. Kirk of the _U.S.S. Enterprise_. It is my pleasure to formally welcome you and your people into the Federation."

The attaché and his group nodded back, his voice gentle but also somewhat hoarse from disuse. "I am Dieni of the Kerrali delegation. It is we who welcome _you_, Captain Kirk and crew. Our people are pleased to be accepted into your Federation."

"It's your Federation now too," Bones reminded him somewhat curtly.

The man glanced at McCoy but took no offense, rather smiling broadly at being corrected. "Of course. We are pleased to be accepted into _the_ Federation."

Jim grinned and straightened up, the top of his head barely reaching the nearest Kerralian diplomat mid-chest. "I must admit you've got a remarkably good grasp of Standard."

Representative Dieni nodded. "Yes. Our facility for language is—unique," he replied with a twinkle in his eye. He gestured for the rest of his party to move forward. "Captain, may we make the rest of the introductions?"

For someone who was more used to having such tedious diplomatic duties foisted on him rather than off Jim readily agreed. The Kerralians each stepped up to a member of the _Enterprise_ crew and extended their hands out and palm upward as if they were doing a standing push-up, then they closed their eyes and waited. His team all turned to him, not wanting to offend their guests but needing direction. There was nothing in the debriefing packet about this particular custom and he was in as much a loss as to what to do as they were. Bones alone simply scowled at the lot of them.

Before he could ask Ambassador Dieni what they wanted them to do Spock sheathed his tricorder and stepped forward, approaching the Kerralian woman that stood near a security ensign. Mirroring her attitude he remarked, "They are touch telepaths, Captain," before placing his palms against hers. Both stood silent but the rapid eye movement in each and the numerous facial expressions the woman made let them know that greetings were being made on the mental plane.

Slowly the rest of his team, despite having no psionic abilities whatsoever, stepped forward for introductions.

* * *

><p><em>"Greetings. I am…"<em>

_ "Spock, son of Sarek and Amanda, from the planet Vulcan. Greetings Spock, I am Lilithrena, daughter of Tuvel and Ragineya. Welcome to Kerrali."_

_ Spock struggled to contain his curiosity at Lilithrena's knowledge of him. Had his reputation preceded him or did her information stem from her natural telepathic ability? _

_ "A little bit of both, actually," she replied with a mental smirk. "We are just as curious to meet you as you are to meet us. We have encountered few other touch telepaths before, and you are the first Vulcan to ever grace our planet."_

_ He couldn't keep the awe out of his voice. "Fascinating."_

_ "Indeed." Here she opted to speak in Vulkhansu, much to his surprise. "I see you are a scientist at heart, just like myself. Do not hold back; you have my full permission to explore."_

_ With the metaphorical flood gates now opened he rushed head long into the recesses of Lilithrena's mind, learning in seconds that which would ordinarily have taken him days._

* * *

><p>"Jim…"<p>

The kid shot him a warning look. "Be considerate to our new friends, Bones-y."

Oh how he hated that nickname; he hated it even more when Jim said it in that stupid sing-song-y voice of his, but still there was no mistaking the look on his face. He'd pull rank if he had to to get him to comply because Jim didn't want his personal obstinacy resulting in a diplomatic mishap of epic proportions. Hiding a gulp Len stepped up to Dieni, shut his eyes tight and held up his hands, not quite pressing them into the Kerralian's. If there was one thing he hated more than living in a tin can that flew through space it was the head voo-doo.

No sooner had he pressed his palms against the attaché's then the other man took a giant step back as if he'd been physically burnt. Len's eyes flew open at the broken contact. "Forgive me, Dr. McCoy. It is our custom never to tread where we are not wholly welcome."

He didn't bother to hide his relief. The Kerralians were getting higher and higher in his estimation with every minute. "Um…thanks. Nothin' against you, it's just…"

"Of course. You are a vault. We understand."

The man spent all of 2 seconds in his head yet he knew all that. Over his shoulder he heard Kirk snigger while his jaw went slack. "How in the blazes did you know that?"

But Dieni had already moved away, his attention drawn to the woman still melding with Spock. Len watched as she released one of Spock's hands and made a clicking noise in the back of her throat, beckoning the rest of her team to join her. Without another word Dieni took hold of her outstretched palm and closed his eyes, holding out his free hand for the next delegate to take and so on until all the ambassadors formed a chain in the middle of the field.

"Whoa."

He glanced over to see Jim standing in shock beside him. While not the most articulate response it was certainly apt; still, although Spock looked the picture of calm he always looked that way and Len wondered what this telepathic barrage might really be doing to his friend. "Do you think we oughta…"

"No," Kirk cut him off abruptly. "I mean everything seems to be under control. Let's just give 'em a sec."

* * *

><p><em>"There is a black spot in your mind," Lilithrena announced. "This troubles you." Gesturing over her shoulder Spock saw the consciousnesses of the group snake about her like a chain. They all nodded in agreement.<em>

_ "Yes. I was injured in an away mission 8.6 months ago, resulting in the erasure of 3.72 years of my memory. Adjusting to life on board the ship in the wake of this incident has been…difficult."_

_ The Kerralians appeared perplexed and saddened by this news. "We have seen this also, but it is not the only darkness we speak of. We grieve with thee."_

_ Their sympathy brought his other losses to the forefront and they all seemed to focus on one image in particular. It was from the early days of his recovery when he had been alone in his quarters. He had spent hours sitting in front of his computer console staring at side-by-side holos of Vulcan that was and the black hole it had become._

_Before the grief could consume him Ambassador Dieni spoke. "We would like to learn more about how you came to lose your memory, but perhaps it would be best to speak of this more openly; I believe your colleagues are growing concerned the longer we linger."_

_ "Very well."_

_ As they prepared to quit the meld Spock listened as the Kerralians talked amongst themselves, remarking on the 'intriguing' Vulcan and his non-telepathic human companions._

30 seconds later the chain broke and the delegates formed a semi-circle around the Commander rapidly firing off questions in Vulkhansu.

* * *

><p>It was absolutely amazing; they couldn't have been introduced to the Vulcan language for more than a few minutes and yet they already spoke it like a native—at least, they sounded like natives to his untrained ear.<p>

"They just met him! How in the hell do they know all that?"

Jim looked over at the Doctor and smirked. "Well they did say they were good with languages."

He watched Bones' fingers twitch around the tricorder sheathed on his belt; you didn't need to be a telepath to see how badly he wanted to scan the Kerralians and learn more about their physiology but they weren't paying him any mind. They were all focused intently on Spock and so long as his First Officer wasn't in any distress he wouldn't interfere.

Instead, Jim listened in trying to pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation.

* * *

><p>"Where did the injury occur?"<p>

"Who or what were the perpetrators of this incident?"

"What attempts, if any, have been made to reverse your condition?"

"Is there a biological component that is impeding your natural ability to heal yourself?"

"Is it your opinion that the priests at Qua'lash can help you? Is that why you've come here today?"

He was prepared to answer questions on all fronts save that final one. Taking a moment to compose himself, Spock turned toward the man near the back who was staring down his nose at him in disdain; he uncharacteristically bristled at the half-spoken accusation.

Representative Dieni responded before he could. "You must forgive Chanai; he is weary of outsiders as a rule, especially now that we have made the Temple of Qua'lash known to foreigners. He fears that there will be an abuse of the priests' time and abilities if this information spreads to the rest of the galaxy."

Though he had a firm grip on his emotions Spock still disliked being summarily lumped in with the disreputable portion of the Federation—therefore defending his good name was a most logical course of action. "The healing properties of the Temple were disclosed to my Captain by his friend, Captain Stellan Sigurson of the _U.S.S. Lexington_, 2.41 days ago. Captain Kirk in turn shared this information with Doctor McCoy and they then shared it with me; it is their hope that I might be treated at Qua'lash and cured. While I will not pretend to be ignorant of the Temple's existence it is not the reason for my presence here this morning. I am here to fulfill my duty as a senior officer aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_, not to grovel for aid. If no such offer is extended then I will leave with my people this evening no worse than I already am and I will not think any less of the Kerralian people no matter the end result."

The delegates nodded in approval, each remarking to Chanai about his ever-increasing paranoia. However, the young man stood his ground with his head held high, certain of his colleagues' naiveté . Knowing that there were those species that were just waiting on the fringe of Kerrali's borders that would use and exploit their talents for their own gain had they been witting made Spock regret speaking so hastily. The attaché was right to put his people on their guard just as Spock was wrong to speak so out of turn.

"Come." Ambassador Dieni was speaking in Standard again and turned in the direction of Ni'Strell, gesturing for the group to join him. "The City Minister and High Chancellors wish to meet you all. When that is through we will arrange for transportation for you to Qua'lash. If they cannot help you then I do not know who can."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.293, 1907 hours. **She was feeling restless…and worried. The team checked in 2 hours ago and everything was fine—she'd listened to the audio herself just to be sure there were no coded distress messages—but in spite of that Nyota simply couldn't seem to keep still. So, to help settle her nerves, she decided to take a turn about the ship.

Wending her way about several floors she finally stopped and stood before one of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the observation deck and gazed down at Kerrali. The surface of the green planet looked so tranquil and at ease and she idly rubbed her belly and sighed, wishing she could be there to see it all for herself as well as support Spock.

"It almost looks how I'd imagine Eden must've looked" Nyota gave a small start at her friend's voice; she'd walked right in and completely overlooked Christine sitting at the corner table staring out the same bank of windows. "Sorry," the blond said, smiling apologetically. "I didn't mean to startle you." She got up and came to stand beside her, the two women quietly taking in the scenery below. Together they watched the gathering purple and fuschia storm clouds swirling about in the southeast.

"I guess I have a lot more on my mind right now then I thought."

"I understand." After a beat she added, "He's ok you know." Optimism was Chris' strong suit but meaningless platitudes weren't her style so Nyota listened close. "The Doctor called a little while ago and said they were doing fine. He said the 3 of them were headed south shortly; he didn't sound too keen about the shuttle ride but other than that he still sounded hopeful."

Instead of a smile she scowled, angry with her people for not contacting her about another communication from the surface after she'd left explicit instructions. Debating over whether or not a rampage on the comm lab was wise she almost missed Chris quietly add, "It wasn't a public call, Ny. Len only comm'd."

Oh.

_ Ohhhh._

How in the world had she missed that?

Astonished, Nyota turned and caught sight of the tell-tale smile on her friend's face that this time spoke of more than her usual good cheer. Christine was in love.

"How long…?"

A few strands of hair came loose as the other woman shook her head. "Not long."

"Not _long_? You drop a bomb like that and only leave me with 'not long'?" she teased back.

Chris turned her head and blushed. "It only started getting serious about 3 or 4 months ago..."

"3 or 4 months?" Nyota clapped a hand over her offending mouth as her friend giggled in the face of her shock. "How come you haven't said anything before?"

She shrugged. "We've just been trying to keep it under the radar is all. I don't even think the Captain knows, though that may be more for Len's amusement then anything else. Plus you've had a lot on your plate…"

"That's still no excuse."

Her friend shot her a look like she was going to question that but decided against it. "Maybe, maybe not; but again we weren't exactly advertising." Chris swayed and bumped into her shoulder, eliciting a small smile. "I'm glad you know now though."

Nyota gave her hand a squeeze. She felt more at ease then she had all day, her mind focusing on Len and Christine together as a couple instead of on what Spock might or might not be facing down below. Honestly, she was surprised the two of them hadn't gotten together sooner, though how they got away with keeping it secret now—and for this long—without anyone the wiser was impressive. She was about to say as much when she felt a gush and a sudden wetness between her legs and she froze.

"Ny?" Chris took hold of her by the shoulders and studied her face. "Nyota?" The warm, sticky, wetness continued to seep down her thigh. "Nyota, are you alright? Say something."

"I…" Still skeptical, she looked down at her feet. The dark stain on her pant leg, the liquid trickling down by her ankle—there was no mistaking the evidence now. "Chris, I think my water just broke."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Temple of Qua'lash<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.293, 1010 (local time). **The shuttle Ambassador Dieni requisitioned for their trip landed without incident some 2 kilometers from the Temple door. Jim didn't question the distance, he was just too grateful that they brought them there and were going to let Spock in to let a little walk worry him. With their guide leading the way the 4 strode toward the door and what he hoped was a cure for his First Officer and friend.

"The priests will not address you directly," Dieni cautioned as they got closer. "In addition to their vows of poverty and charity they have taken a vow of absolute silence, save for telepathic communication. It is their belief that their healing favors are blessed by the gods because of this." The attaché chanced a quick look at McCoy but said nothing as they walked on.

Damn. Bones was going to have an issue with that for sure; he knew he had questions about their treatment methods and if they wouldn't talk to him and he wouldn't let them touch him there was no _way _he was going to let Spock near them. Glancing at him out of the corner of his eye Jim saw he was right but the look of concern McCoy spared for Spock in the next moment made him reconsider the sharp quip that was on the tip of his tongue.

"Also, if the priests believe they can cure you Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy will not be allowed in the room. They may wait for you in the antechamber but only you may enter the Yuhestra, the central healing chamber. It is a test of your faith and if you do not consent to enter alone the priests will not treat you."

He and Len jerked to a stop; that was a condition even _he_ couldn't abide by and Jim found his hand hovering defensively over his holster without realizing it.

"No!" they cried simultaneously.

"Understood."

Of course; _of course_ Spock would think this was a good idea. "NO!" Jim shrieked.

"Are you out of your damned mind? Listen here, you overgrown leprechaun, we're not letting you anywhere…!"

"Doctor."

"What!" Bones spat back in annoyance.

Spock trained his cool, level gaze on them both. "There is no need to shout at me. I have not agreed to anything. I was merely acknowledging the conditions Representative Dieni set forth. Only after I consult with the priests will I make a final decision."

Oh. Well now that was a horse of a different color. Jim looked over at the Ambassador who stood calmly off to the side seemingly as uninterested in their conversation as he was of Jim's trigger-happy finger. Relaxing, he let his hand drop to the side. The Kerrali really were non-violent people…

…and he'd get that through his head eventually.

Soon the quartet approached the gilded outer gate and rang the ceremonial bell. Before long 5 extremely tall Kerralian priests in electric blue robes answered and admitted them with nothing more than a discerning glance.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.293, 1930 hours. **M'Benga popped his head up and smiled at her, standing as he pulled off the latex gloves and motioned for her to lower her legs. He commented on her progress but she didn't hear a word of it; her heart was pounding too loud in her ears. This was too soon—this was all happening too soon. Spock wasn't here and they were supposed to have another month…

"Lieutenant?"

She looked over at him in wide-eyed alarm. He still smiled at her but there was a certain gravity about him that she didn't usually see. "I know you're scared—you're worried that this is all happening too fast—but I need you to remember to keep breathing. Now we've sent a message down to the surface for the command team and I'm sure Commander Spock will be here shortly but right now you need to keep in mind that you're both in good hands. I know I'm not the CMO but the _Enterprise_ has a crack team of doctors and nurses and we've all been training for the last 7 months for just this moment; we know what to do and we won't let you down. You and your daughter are going to be just fine."

In her heart of hearts she knew this was true but it didn't make the situation she now found herself in any easier to swallow. "Are you sure this isn't too early for her to be born?"

M'Benga shook his head. "When we learned of this pregnancy Dr. McCoy and I took all the available information we had into consideration and gave you what we felt was an appropriate due date; however, despite our calculations, it looks as though your daughter feels differently. Now her brain is fully developed, as are her lungs and the rest of her body, so she's perfectly capable of surviving if she's born today or tomorrow which is what she seems intent on doing. Her birth only seems premature to us because we were banking on her spending another month or so growing but technically there's no reason for her to wait any longer to come out and meet you."

"Ok." Carefully controlling her breathing Nyota felt the panic start to subside. "Ok."

"Good. Now you're free to get up and walk around but we want you to stay close to the sickbay for observation just to be safe, alright? No leaving this deck or I _will_ sic Dr. McCoy's hounds on you," he warned with a wink.

In spite of herself she laughed as she sat up, Christine by her side to help with whatever she might want or need. There were still a million things that could go wrong: Spock might not return in time, their daughter might not survive her premature birth despite M'Benga's predictions—_she _might not survive her daughter's birth—but knowing her _Enterprise_ family was there to help her shoulder the burden made her feel lighter. Turning out of bed she slipped her feet into the waiting pair of slippers and let Christine help her into a robe, then took her arm and pulled her to the hallway for a quick stroll.

She had to trust that despite all appearances everything would turn out the way it was supposed to because right now it was completely out of her hands.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Temple of Qua'lash<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.293, 1035 (local time). **The priests at the entrance nodded at the group then reached out their hands. Spock was surprised when everyone in the party submitted to inspection, though Doctor McCoy did so with a rather large grimace on his face. Carefully he stepped forward and allowed the priest access to his psi points.

It was unlike any other mind meld he had ever had. Spock barely felt the priest's entrance into his consciousness and 1.03 seconds later he withdrew without so much as a sound. Looking around he saw Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy looking equally perplexed as their attendants stepped away; meanwhile the priests flocked to Ambassador Dieni's side and were soon locked in conference.

The men grouped together on the other side of the room and conferred silently with one another. "Was that it?" Captain Kirk asked.

"I do believe, Captain, that that was indeed 'it'."

"Geez, Spock," the Doctor continued, "If that was a mind meld you could learn a thing or two from them! If your technique were half…"

"Gentlemen." The priests shuffled out of the ornate anteroom, their blue billowing around their feet like waves, and Dieni came over to address them. "They have assessed the injury and, though extensive, they believe they and their brothers are capable of reversing it. If you wish to begin treatment you may step into the Yuhestra through those doors there." He pointed to a set of thick, wooden, double doors on the other side of the room that were covered in elaborate scrollwork. No one had approached them since their arrival. "However, if you do not wish to go forward then we may return to Ni'Strell. The choice is yours, Commander Spock."

He nodded at the other man. "A moment if you will, Ambassador."

"Certainly."

Spock turned to confer with his comrades. He felt as though he were standing on the edge of a precipice and could either jump in or be pushed.

He had never liked being pushed.

The Captain approached with hands clasped tight behind his back and an altogether studious expression on his face. "Well, Mr. Spock? What do you intend to do?"

Mentally he reviewed his situation once more. There were no physicians on the _Enterprise_ who could help him and there were no Vulcan Healers coming. With no foreseeable cure on the horizon save this the decision was all but made for him. "I intend to begin treatment."

The Doctor frowned while Captain Kirk merely nodded. "Very well. We'll be waiting for you right here." The pair stepped away toward a bench on the far side of the room followed by the Ambassador as Spock strode toward the double doors wondering what awaited him on the other side. Pausing, he studied the designs in the wood wondering what it all meant, then took a deep breath and pushed them open wide enough to admit him; once he was through they immediately swung shut so that his colleagues could not see or hear anything more.

The room beyond was unlike anything he had anticipated; it was full of air and light and had a bank of windows overlooking the gorge that made up the final border of the property. In the center of the room were two circles, a white one encircling a translucent blue the same shade as the priests' robes, and as Spock stepped closer he saw that the architects of the Temple had hollowed out the ground beneath the blue sphere straight through the cliff until he could see to the bottom of the gorge. Overhead a circular skylight was placed over the spheres allowing for an optimum amount of natural light. There was no other furniture in the room and no other person save for himself.

Though he did not feel threatened Spock scrupulously studied the layout in the event that he be needed to make a quick escape. Stepping over to the windows he tested the strength of the glass and scanned the surrounding walls for any exits.

_"Be at peace, S'chn T'gai Spokh. You are in no danger here."_

Raising an eyebrow he spun on his heel only to discover that he was still alone in the room. Apparently the priests were stronger telepaths than their counterparts and did not need the physical contact as other Kerralians did to communicate.

_"That is correct."_ To his right he heard the hiss of a hidden doorway pull open admitting 45 priests into the spacious room.

Curious how the Kerralians always traveled in pairs of 5.

_"We draw strength in this number; also, it has been the way of our people for as long as we can remember," _the collective answered. All the priests' attentions were now focused solely on him._ "And will continue thus for generations."_

At this moment one priest near the back shuffled away from the pack, his hunched carriage and slow, plodding steps announcing him as an Elder. With one liver-spotted hand outstretched to Spock he nodded and stepped into yet another mind meld. _"You are as our family out there is," he announced, the group over his shoulder nodding in agreement. "You require touch in order to communicate in this way. This is the way of your father's people but not of your mother's."_

_ "Yes, that is correct."_

_ "We find that very interesting indeed. Few Kerralians are born without the facility for basic telepathic communication, yet the Federation has shown us that there are entire species without this ability. Most fascinating." _Probing deeper into Spock's mind the priest added, _"But that is not what brings you here to us today. The memories you are trying to recover are within but are buried more deeply than even you or your colleagues realize. We sense them but cannot access them and our combined powers are great."_

Spock took a moment to disassemble the Elder's statement. _"Would a Healer be better able to reverse the damage? Will __you__ be able to reverse the damage?"_

He felt the collective approach and delve deeper into his psyche. Where such a meld conducted with other Vulcans the pain would be most acute but here the sensation was akin to a faint, static-sounding hum, that was proving to be more annoying than painful.

_"As we do not know the techniques your Healers may have employed to repair your mind we cannot say; however, with patience and great fortitude we believe we can retrieve what has been lost to you._

_"S'chn T'gai Spokh, your case is as unique as you are, and for that reason we must insist that you be an active participant and remain conscious throughout the entire procedure. This will take several hours to complete."_

Unconsciously Spock straightened a little at the challenge. _"I am able to function with much less sleep than my human colleagues. This will not be a problem."_

The Elder shook his head. _"It is not only your physical stamina that will be tested today but your mental and emotional strength as well."_

He pinched his lips into a tighter, thinner line. _"Understood,"_ he replied, _"Let us begin."_


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N:** Thanks for all the replies. Just a quick head's up: I'm working on Chapter 17 right now but it may be awhile in coming. My grandmother went into the hospital recently and between that and classes there's been very little time for writing so I hope you'll bear with me. However, this should tide you over until the next update. Thanks again for all your kind and helpful reviews and I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to them like I used to!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise,**_** Stardate 2261.294, 0202 hours. **"You're about 3 cm dilated now, Lieutenant. How are the contractions?"

"They're manageable," she replied, scooting about the bed. She shifted up on her knees and moved a cache of pillows in front of her for when the next contraction hit. "Nothing I can't handle yet."

"Ok." He made some notes on his chart. "Have you changed your mind about an epidural?"

Nyota shook her head; she and Spock agreed to try a drug-free birth, fearful of any unforeseen reactions their daughter might have to the various medications on-board. Besides, they both believed that when the time came Spock would be there to help her manage the worst of the labor pain.

M'Benga was still scribbling in his PADD when she asked if there was any news from the surface. No one from the _Enterprise_ or the team still in Ni'Strell were able to get in contact with the Captain, the Doctor or, more importantly, the Commander. "Communications thinks there's some kind of electrical interference but they're not sure. Word has it all their equipment's going haywire."

Great, just what she needed, her husband MIA and her department falling to pieces. Another contraction hit and she nodded along as he talked, focusing on her breathing just like she'd practiced. "What about…sending a team…down to the Temple?"

"Commander Scott says no one's to beam down or take a shuttle near that region because of a local storm. As soon as it's safe though…"

"I get it," she panted angrily. If she weren't so busy trying to block the pain she'd be cursing out the universe. Dammit all, all she wanted was Spock! She was scared and tired and uncomfortable and if they couldn't get him back on this damn ship soon she was going to tear it apart bolt by bolt, so help her!

"I'll call the bridge again," M'Benga said nervously, edging toward the door. Dimming the lights on his way out he all but sprinted from the room. Christine sat giggling in her seat and almost upset her cup of ice chips.

Nyota's brow creased in confusion. "Did I just say that out loud?"

Chris' laughter only increased. "Man, Ny, I am SO glad I'm on your good side!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Temple of Qua'lash<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.293, 1338 (local time). **He was going to die.

Cadet Kirk—_acting Captain _Kirk—had just outlined a suicide mission that, if executed correctly, would save Earth from the rogue future Romulans bent on destroying the Federation planet by planet. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation and fear of their arrival on the other ship as they made their way toward the transporter room.

The sorrow he also felt was not only over this impending event but over the fact that he would be leaving Nyota Uhura without ever admitting how he truly felt.

He knew she was aware of his feelings—she had let him know as much in the turbo lift after his return from the doomed surface—but now there was no time for her to hear it from him in his own way. It would be his one last regret.

They were walking the corridors of the _Enterprise_, Kirk in front, Nyota behind. She did not stop at the doors or even at the control station but rather followed him up onto the platform, holding her hands tightly behind her back.

She had known that this was farewell just as surely as he did—and yet he found himself lying to her for the first and last time. "I will be back."

"You better be."

_ "Spokh." _That was not her voice. Who was calling him? Where was that voice coming from?

"I'll be monitoring your frequency."

She was kissing him—or he was kissing her, he could not be certain who initiated the kiss—that smoldered with longing and sorrow and heartache…

_"Spokh."_

He turned at the sound and the transporter room quickly receded into the background. A tall man with a cone-shaped head and neon blue robes addressed him—the Kerralian priest. He was not currently aboard the _Enterprise_; he was in the Temple of Qua'lash. _"Yes," _the man replied. _ "You must focus. This is not your present. Remember…"_

With that warning Spock turned back and viewed the scene again. This was indeed a memory. He had survived his encounter with Nero; his fears for Nyota went unrealized.

With that infamous day now recovered the Kerralian priests forged ahead, working hard to restore the rest of his memories while he took a moment to center himself. This was the longest single meld Spock had ever engaged in and his energy was waning from the sheer amount of concentration. Through the collective he was aware that several hours had passed though his own internal clock was—just like the rest of him—out of sync.

The exhaustion and lack of control were beginning to irritate him, an emotion he barely owned up to having in the face of the men diligently treating him. He was truly grateful for all that they were doing even as his body and mind wanted nothing more than be done with it all and sleep.

_"We understand,"_ the Elder answered, _"But our work is not yet done. Come." _With little reluctance he ventured forth and together they delved into the recesses of his trapped mind once more.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Temple of Qua'lash<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.293, 1512 (local time). **Ambassador Dieni had stepped out half an hour ago citing some personal business and Jim yawned for the fourth time in half as many minutes. Idly he wondered if he should suggest that Starfleet make bags of instant coffee standard issue on all utility belts—though why he needed another jolt of caffeine this badly was anybody's guess...after all, they'd only been down there what, 10, 11 hours? He'd been on longer away missions then this without needing a nap.

Of course, the adrenaline from all those other away missions might've had something to do with it too. Staring at 4 marble walls instead of a Nanuen firing squad was safer but it was also boring as all get out.

He yawned again.

"Oh hell," Bone remarked grumpily. "If you need to take a nap lay down over there, and don't use me for a pillow." He went back to staring at the double doors. Jim thought if he stared at them much longer he might actually develop x-ray vision.

Ha!

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh." The Doctor turned and gave him the once over and he had the feeling a hypo was coming his way. "There's no shame in admitting you're tired, Jim. You've been up longer than usual."

He snorted. "I'll have you know I've pulled whole alpha, beta and gamma shifts without relief…"

"Yeah, and afterward you crashed like a ton of Andorian ice bricks. Everyone's got a breaking point. Besides, you've been up for almost 24 hours now."

"What're you talking about, Bones? It's only 3 in the afternoon."

One eyebrow shot up. "How much of that debriefing packet did you read, Kid?"

Jim eyed his friend suspiciously. If he kept up this 'holier-than-thou' attitude with him much longer he was going to start taking it personally. "All of it."

The eyebrow rose higher. "All of it?"

Frak. He was too tired to play their usual 'stubborn' game to it's natural end. "Ok, so maybe I skimmed a few pages. What's the big deal?"

Bones groaned and rolled his eyes. "The big deal is that if you'd read all 32 pages you'd know that for every hour we spend down here 2 hours go past on the _Enterprise_."

His jaw fell open. "Say what?"

"You heard me. It's already 6 in the morning again up there."

"Bull!"

Bones smirked. "Go ahead, Kid, call my bluff. Call the bridge and ask them to tell you the time, cause that won't sound stupid."

Dammit! They both knew he wouldn't do anything half so ludicrous as that—if he did he'd never live it down. And Bones was acting all self-satisfied which he _really _hated because it usually meant he was right…and if that was the case then they'd really been down here for 22 hours straight. He hadn't pulled an all-nighter like this in at least 13 months and it just wasn't agreeing with him like it used to. He hated getting old. He used to be able to go days without sleep and now all he wanted was his own bed…

"Here." Bones pulled the med-pack strap off his shoulder and pushed the bag toward him.

Jim looked at it like he'd been handed a bomb. "What's this for?"

"For your pillow, what else?"

He looked again at the harmless bag. "But what about you?"

Tonight—or maybe it was this morning, he really wasn't too sure anymore—Bones was a fountain of smugness and eye rolls. When he finally looked Jim's way again he barked gruffly, "I'm a doctor, I'm trained to go 36, 48 hours at a stretch with minimal sleep. Now shut up and get some shut eye."

"Hey, who's the Captain here?"

"Shut up and get some shut eye, _Sir_."

Jim smirked. "That's more like it." Pushing off to the far end of the bench he adjusted the make-shift pillow and curled up facing the wall. "And don't let me sleep more than an hour, ok?"

He could just hear the grin in Bones' voice. "An _Enterprise _hour or a Kerralian one?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Temple of Qua'lash<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.293, 1746 (local time). **The priests were puzzled.

Although the Kerralian and Vulcan people had several traits in common the idea of a mental link as strong and as intimate as a marriage bond was completely alien to them; and, despite their openness, their society placed a great amount of respect on people's privacy. Though they were very much aware of Spock's abilities to shield and dampen his various connections they were still astounded by the perceived lack of boundaries.

But no matter their opinion on the subject the fact still remained that they had yet to reconstitute the bond and had no previous practical experience whatsoever in recovering such an important link—in fact they were not aware such a bond _could_ be formed prior to meeting him.

They had hoped—and fully believed—that the bond would restore itself once memories of his wedding ceremony were recovered. He now recalled every intimate detail of that day and the days both preceding and following it yet the link did not return. However, the priests were fully confident in their ability to heal him and so, for the first time since the entire ordeal began, Spock was asked to sit back and wait, no longer an active participant in the whole affair.

Without the voice of the Elder reminding him to focus he allowed his thoughts wander. He found himself contemplating how his friends were faring just beyond the double doors. No doubt that even on this peaceful world the Captain had managed to get himself into some spot of trouble, even in a place this far removed from society. Hopefully the Doctor was able to keep him from irreparably damaging relations with the Federation's newest member planet; if not he must ready himself to rescue them and repair to the ship as quickly as possible.

Thinking of the _Enterprise_ also made him think of home. The ship he so proudly served on was his home now—had been for some time—and not simply because Vulcan was gone. The _Enterprise_ was where he finally found the acceptance and friendship that had been missing all his life. Sulu, Chekov, Kirk, Scott and yes, even Dr. McCoy (though he would never admit the fact aloud to him), were as much his family as was Sarek.

And Nyota…his relationship with her was without parallel. It was almost beyond his capabilities to put into words how he felt about her though that did not stop him from making the attempt. His wife meant so much to him and his life meant so little without her by his side. He was the man and the officer that he was because she was there beside him, his partner in all things, making him the best he could possibly be…

_"Yes," murmured the priests. "Yes…"_

Suddenly, the collective swarmed him with thoughts of Nyota, from his initial impressions of her on her first day of class to the moment he left her aboard the ship. The memories came on so fast and furious he had trouble keeping up with them.

_ "She is the key."_

They did not need to elaborate. Spock concentrated again on his wife, focusing on the sensations aroused by each memory, the priests closely monitoring his every move. Slowly, the silvery tendrils of the bond emerged and took hold, snaking their way through the garden of his mind. Every emotional reaction he ever had in response to her made the roots of their link sink deeper and he felt unadulterated joy as her mind reconnected with his. An instant later the bond exploded, fully invading every crevice and causing him to flinch at the intensity of her mental cry.

_"__**SPOCK!**__"_

She was wounded. His bondmate was in pain and calling for him and he was not there...

He carefully studied her memories of the last few hours to determine what had happened. She was still safely aboard the _Enterprise _when she had been hurt. She had been standing in the observation room when…

No, Nyota was not injured. _She was in labor_.

His eyes flew open in terror. Chest heaving he stared straight up into the face of the Elder sitting cross-legged before him. The rest of the room was bare, the other priests having retreated into their sanctuary as soon as their work was complete. Looking down he saw he had been brought to sit on the blue circle with his empty hands palm up on his knees—hands which were now trembling with the need to be with Nyota.

Wordlessly the Kerralian stretched forth his slender fingers to access his meld points. _"Your mate is delivering your child."_

_"Yes," he replied, worriedly tapping into the renewed link for more information. She was currently in such distress that she was completely unaware of his presence. In between the colorful curses and her fears for their daughter she was also worried about him. Apparently the _Enterprise _had been trying to hail them for the last 16 hours without success._

_ She had been in labor all that time and he had not been there for her…_

_"The Temple is sacred ground, protected by the gods. Your technology does not work here; that is why your people could not reach you."_

With that question answered his next concern was how quickly he might be able to vacate the premises so that he might return to the ship in time for his daughter's birth. Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind Spock tried to shield his selfishness from the Elder; it would not do to reward all the time and energy the Elder and his people had expended in treating him with nothing more than his own impatience.

_"You must go. It is the way with our people as well when their mating comes to fruition. Blessed be thee and thine, S'chn T'gai Spokh of Vulcan. We welcome your return should you ever need us again." _

_ "Thank you. I look forward to being of assistance to you and yours as well. Live long and prosper, Elder." _

And with that the priest withdrew from his mind for the last time, releasing him from any and all obligations. Spock did not need to be told twice what to do and swiftly rose to his feet. With a last grateful nod at the Kerralian he sprinted for the door.

* * *

><p><em><strong> Temple of Qua'lash<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.293, 1750 (local time). **All that time he'd been sittin' out there and he damn near missed the moment he'd been waitin' for.

He'd just been about to nod off when without warning the doors of the healing chamber finally burst open. There Spock stood, framed by a white light while his eyes darted around the room. Physically he looked none the worse for wear but the way he was acting made Len suspicious and he knew only a full body scan would tell whether or not something was really wrong. Jumping up from his seat even faster than Jim he barely had a chance to call out Spock's name when the Vulcan ran out of the room, moving so fast it made his head spin.

"What in the—wait!"

Reaching back Len grabbed his medkit and dashed out after him, wondering what in the hell went on behind those doors to have spooked Spock so badly. In the back of his mind he knew this chase was an exercise in futility—he wasn't the most physically fit man but even he was no match for Vulcan speed—and by the time he reached the bottom steps the Commander was already some 300 meters away and the gap was growing.

"BONES!" The cry made him stop short just outside the gate. Spinning around he saw both Jim and the Ambassador hurriedly rushing down the steps. "He's alright, Bones."

"Oh really? And where's your medical degree, Jim? You just saw him, does he look alright to you?" He was about to take off again when the kid grabbed his arm.

Dieni stepped forth, hands clasped together and half hidden under the sleeves of his robes in deference to Len's dislike of being touched. "Perhaps I may be able to explain the Commander's abrupt departure…"

* * *

><p>He did not stop running until he was 22.8 meters beyond the transport shuttle. Whipping out his communicator Spock was able to connect to the ship within seconds. "This is Spock to <em>Enterprise<em>, come in _Enterprise_."

A crackle of static was followed by the relieved voice of Lieutenant Marks. "Gosh, Commander, you've no idea how good it is to hear your voice! We've been trying to hail you for hours but between the electrical storm and our equipment breaking down this place has been a mess!"

"I am not in need of a report at this time, Lieutenant," he said somewhat tersely. Every second longer he spent on the surface was a second more he was apart from his adun'a. "One to beam up."

"One?" the order was parroted back to him confusedly. "But Sir, what about the Captain and the Doctor? Aren't they…"

"I said one to beam up, Lieutenant. _Now_."

"Y-yes Sir. Standby."

* * *

><p>"Labor?" He looked to Jim incredulously. "You're wrong. If Nyota'd gone into labor then I would've been paged and I haven't been paged."<p>

He'd just learned a few seconds ago why they'd been out of touch with the _Enterprise_ from a meld with the Ambassador and was about to explain it all to Bones when the diplomat answered for him. "It was not possible for your people to reach you while you were within the walls of Qua'lash. There is a great concentration of Halsettir in the bedrock that causes electrical interference; the priests believe that because no technology can work within the Temple grounds that it is sacred and has been blessed by the gods. It was also because of the mineral that we could not safely land the shuttle closer to the entrance when we first arrived." Seeing the anger flare in Bones' eyes he added, "I apologize; I had thought your Captain Sigurson had informed you of this beforehand. It was not our intention to cause you or your people any grief."

Soon Jim found himself the recipient of Bones' sharp-eyed glare. "How far do we have to go to be in place for an emergency beam out?"

His head snapped up and he looked off into the distance past the shuttle they'd arrived in. His gaze directed everyone else's and they watched as Spock dematerialized. "About that far, I'd guess."

"Wise ass," McCoy harrumphed before taking off again at a run. If there was anything that could easily re-direct Bones' anger it was knowing that one of his patients needed him. Jim wanted to follow but turned and held his hand out to Dieni.

_"I'm afraid we're needed on the ship, Ambassador." He laid the charm on thick in the hopes of smoothing any ruffled feathers caused by their abrupt departure._

_ "We understand, Captain. We would expect no less and look forward to seeing and working with you and your people in the future. Blessings on the health and future of the child and on you and your crewmates."_

_ Jim nodded. These were good allies to have. "Thanks. And thanks to you and your people too, for everything."_

_ The Ambassador smiled. "We are happy to be of assistance when assistance is needed."_

He broke contact and sprinted off after Bones who was already halfway back to the shuttle. Even knowing everything that could still go wrong he was giddy with excitement knowing that Spock was back in one piece and that Uhura was about to make him an uncle.

Uncle Jimmy…who'd have thought?

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.294, 1151. **"Ok Lieutenant, a few more minutes more and I think we'll be about ready to push."

Chris watched in surprise as her friend surged forward and swore—SWORE!—that she would "do no such g-ddamn thing" until Spock got there. She knew Nyota well and she knew that 9 times out of 10 the girl could talk her way into or out of any situation but stopping labor this far along wasn't really an option. Still, Ny was adamant and Dr. M'Benga shot her a look that Chris read all too well; without her cooperation he might just have to sedate her and deliver the baby by Caesarean, an outcome none of them truly wanted to see come to pass.

She leaned over and pushed the dark, sweaty hair out of Nyota's eyes for the umpteenth time. "Sweetie, you've got to listen to me. We've tried hailing him and everything but this baby's coming _now_ and not one of us can stop it. I know you want…"

"It's not just me, Chris." She was sobbing and pleading and panting all in the same breath and it broke her heart. "We've waited so long and wanted her so badly. But he needs to be here to meet her, he…he…" Another contraction hit and Nyota ground her teeth while she watched the monitors around the bed spike. After a long labor there was no denying that they were entering the home stretch and the team stood by ready and waiting. When she finally caught her breath she finished, "He needs to be here, he needs to see for himself that he's not alone anymore and never will be again. You have no idea what she means to him, to us."

Nyota leaned back and breathed deep and Chris just sat there squeezing her hand in sympathy. She knew she was a poor second choice for a labor coach and that they all wanted the Commander to be there but that just wasn't going to happen and somehow she had to get that through her friend's lovable but thick head. Suddenly the grip tightened and she watched as Nyota went glassy-eyed.

* * *

><p>He rematerialized on the transporter pad and blew out of the room, leaving 2 shocked ensigns blubbering in his wake as they attempted to direct him to the medical bay as if he did not already know. Spock made it to the turbo lift without incident and ordered it to take him to Deck 5. Only in the quiet of the elevator did he take the time to check in on Nyota's progress again. She was still unwitting of just how much she was broadcasting.<p>

_"He needs to be here, he needs to see for himself that he's not alone anymore and never will be again. You have no idea what she means to him, to us."_

The lift crawled along at what felt like a snail's pace. Nyota was correct about his desire to be present for the birth—he wanted to be there to support _her_ as much as to greet their daughter—yet she was mistaken as well. With the unconditional love and support of his adun'a he was never alone. _"I am coming, k'diwa. Do not despair. I am coming."_ The doors opened and he shot off down the hall.

_"I am coming, k'diwa. Do not despair. I am coming."_

* * *

><p>It was him! He was back in her head…he was cured!<p>

"SPOCK!" Pulling herself up she looked wildly about the room. He said he was coming, but how close was he? Was he on the ship or was he still trapped on the surface by the storm? Had he even left the Temple? He must be…

"It's time to push."

"What?" she shrieked. "NO!" Squeezing her friend's hand she yanked Christine closer. "It's Spock," she told her. "He's coming. You have to…you have to…ACH!"

"Lieutenant, I'm going to need you to cooperate," M'Benga warned. Seeing that she had no intention of doing any such thing he looked to Christine. "Nurse Chapel, I need you to administer 30 cc's of hypadozone; I'm green-lighting the emergency c-…"

"NO, DAMMIT! CHRIS!" She was panting hard now and trying and failing to keep her desperation at bay. "PLEASE!"

She could see Christine was torn between her duty and their friendship and Nyota could only hope that friendship prevailed. Releasing her hand she watched her turn and walk out of the delivery room. Only when the pneumatics hissed behind her did Nyota breathe a sigh of relief.

* * *

><p>It was a potentially career-ending move but she knew Ny and Ny knew Spock; if he said he was coming then he was coming. She only hoped to head him off at the pass and at least get him into some sterile scrubs. The last thing they needed was for him to pass off some Kerralian microbe to the baby in his haste to be present for the birth.<p>

No sooner had she stepped out of the delivery room then the med bay doors opened and a blue/black blur raced in, coming to a halt only centimeters from her face.

"Nurse Chapel, you will step aside."

"Commander, I'm…"

"You will step aside or I will physically remove you from the doorway."

Oh they were trying her patience today—sorely trying it. Frowning at him she threw her shoulders back and pointed toward the decontamination showers, showing him she would _not_ be intimidated. "180 seconds and you'll need to change into scrubs. _Then_ I'll step aside." His eyes flashed and she tried to understand the calculating look on his face. Was he…was he actually debating the merits of arguing with her? "This isn't a request, Commander. She wants you in there as much as you want to be there but I won't risk you potentially infecting my patients—_both_ of them."

Not wasting another second he dashed over to the glass-enclosed sonic decon and locked himself in, glaring at the startled Nurse Ofunzi standing outside to punch in the start-up sequence. While she re-scrubbed Christine glanced up and saw the Commander peel off his shirt and toss it aside then start unbuckling his pants. She quickly turned around; he might not have felt the need to wait until he was out of the shower for a few seconds of privacy but she was still inclined to give it to him.

In no time at all he was standing in front of her again demanding to be let in to the delivery room.

* * *

><p>"I want to be beamed directly into Sickbay," he heard Bones order into his communicator as he approached. Jim didn't catch the response but judging by the way his friend's grimace deepened he guessed it wasn't good. "Yes I understand the risk but she's my patient, dammit! And why in the hell weren't we contacted sooner?"<p>

He ground to a halt and caught the tail-end of Lieutenant Marks' simpering apologies. No beam downs allowed due to the storm, electrical interference, malfunctioning equipment…it sounded to him like his baby was going to get a complete overhaul once they broke orbit and things settled down. First order of business, however, was getting back up on the ship. He yanked the communicator out of Bones' hand.

"Hey!"

"Lieutenant, tell the transporter room there's 2 to beam up and get us as close to Sickbay as possible, understood?"

"Yes, Captain."

The Doctor didn't even have time to mutter under his breath before they were caught up in the light and returned to the ship to the astonishment of more than a few crewmembers walking the halls a few yards from the med bay doors. Bones didn't spare them a glance but took off at a run and Jim could hear him barking out orders before he even got into the main room.

"I, uh, guess I'll just wait here then. For news."

* * *

><p>She lay limp against the pillows, legs splayed beneath a sterile blue sheet, hair matted to her temples and bags under her eyes…and yet according to his vision she had never looked lovelier.<p>

Without any hesitation he stepped past the medical team rushing around the room and took hold of her hand.

"Peace, Ashayam, I am here. Do not be afraid. I am here."

"Spock!" she choked out between gasps and sobs. "You made it! I was so worried…"

"I'm _really_ going to have to insist you start pushing now, Lieutenant," Doctor M'Benga uttered tersely from the other end of the sheet.

Nurse Chapel sidled up beside him. "Here, Commander. Hurry." She helped Spock get into position behind Nyota so that her back rested against his chest and he could take one of her hands in each of his just as they had practiced in the pre-birth classes.

_"You are strong," he encouraged her as he felt the wave of her contraction swell. "You can do this." How she had endured this level of pain for the last 16.28 hours without his assistance or any pharmaceutical aid was remarkable._

_ "Remarkable my ass!" she barked back unconcerned across the link._

_ Apparently she did not share his level of intrigue on the matter. Considering all that she had recently undergone he did not blame her._

Nyota bore down for the count of ten. "ErrrrrrAHHHH!"

"Good job, Ny," Nurse Chapel said as she wiped away the sweat. "Just keep it up and she'll be here before you know it." She moved away to assist the Doctor.

His wife was about to push again when Doctor McCoy entered the room. "Startin' the show without me were you, Darlin'?"

He appeared remarkably relaxed, yet Spock knew that the Doctor's emotions often ran contradictory to those of other humans when placed in stressful situations; and if this did not count as stressful in the Doctor's metaphorical book then he did not know what would. Leonard moved to stand behind Doctor M'Benga but did not step forward to take over.

"Doctor, are you…"

"You're doin' fine, Geoff. I'm just here for moral support."

Moral support? They did not need moral support, they needed Doctor McCoy and his expertise to assist in the safe delivery of his daughter; not that he did not think Doctor M'Benga proficient enough in his duties but in matters as important as this…

"Again," the young doctor ordered, interrupting his thoughts.

Focusing on his adun'a, Spock sent every calming memory he could her way and took on his share of her pain. She had labored long and her strength was waning yet she was just as bound and determined as he was to bring their daughter swiftly and safely into the world.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.294, 1208. **The Captain paced back and forth a few yards from the delivery room doors. Once he and the team were back on-board the rest of the command team called in their reliefs and joined him in waiting. Sulu and Chekov had a game of cards going and Scotty leaned against the doorframe with a fistful of cigars that looked a little worse for wear from all the hand wringing. Jim, for his part, paced. He knew the room before him was sound-proofed but he kept thinking he heard the sound of a baby's wail.

Ensign Uzugara happened past and just like every other hapless nurse to come within a meter of him he pressed him for news. The answer was always the same.

"No Sir. Sorry Sir. As soon as I know anything though…"

"You'll let me know," he finished, releasing the other man. "I know."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.294, 1242. **She thought the sound of Spock's voice in her head again was the most beautiful sound in the world—until she heard her baby's first, sweet cries. Soon M'Benga had her cleaned up and wrapped in a fresh blanket in no time and placed her in her waiting arms. Despite being a month early she felt so sturdy and solid and that did her heart good. Her little girl's wails quickly settled into whimpers once she realized she was safe with her mother again and Nyota was content to just stare at her.

"10 fingers, 10 toes, 53.35 centimeters long, 3768.72 grams and an APGAR of 10. In other words she's absolutely…"

"Perfect."

Everyone in the room stopped—not because it wasn't true, but because it was Spock who said it. _Her_ Spock who so famously declared on several occasions that perfection was statistically impossible and therefore unattainable.

Not even 10 minutes old and their little girl already had her father wrapped around her little finger.

_"Yes," he replied mentally as he gazed lovingly into their daughter's face. "She does."_

Looking down she saw that he had wrested one of her tiny hands loose from her blankets and that the baby was quite literally grasping his pinky finger.

_"And I am pleased to be corrected upon the matter of perfection."_

_She smiled back. "And I'm pleased that you're pleased."_

He craned his head around and pressed a kiss to her temple, unable both physically and mentally to contain his joy. She couldn't contain it either and kept feeding the happiness loop across the bond as they gazed at the baby they'd so longed and hoped for. A few minutes later and their little girl let loose a big yawn and squirmed, blinking several times before finally settling in for her first nap.

It was a difficult thing, being born. Tiring even. So very, very tiring…

Her exhaustion finally caught up with her and she reluctantly allowed Christine to take the baby while Spock eased out from behind her on the bed. "Rest, k'diwa. I will watch over her while you sleep."

She smiled wide and Spock leaned in to kiss her again while tucking the sheets up around her. "Yes," she murmured happily. Nyota turned to see the bassinet being wheeled right up beside her. "Sweet dreams, binti*."

* * *

><p>*Binti—Swahili for 'daughter'<p> 


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N:** This is long overdue and I'm sorry but I hope you all enjoy it. I haven't had as much time for writing lately and as soon as I finished this I wanted to get it out to you, so it might not be as well-edited as previous chapters (though I did my best). Lastly, to all of you who read and reviewed last chapter and asked after my grandmother she's doing much, MUCH better (thank goodness!) so thank you for your kind thoughts and words.

P.S. One more chapter to go and then this story's done! I can't believe it.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise,**_** Stardate 2261.294, 1243.** Len clapped the junior doctor on the shoulder as they exited the delivery room, leaving the beaming parents (well, at least one beaming parent—the elf, he was sure, was beaming on the inside) with their newborn.

"That was a hell of a delivery, Geoff. One for the medical journals." He'd thought the same thing after Joanna was born but unfortunately the New England Journal of Medicine didn't quite agree. Bet they'd see things differently now though. Them and half the galaxy.

"Yeah, it was."

He watched Geoff amble over and pull off his bloodied scrubs then wash his hands again. If it was him he'd be hootin' and hollerin' but the other man was oddly quiet. Whatever was on his mind was chewin' at him from the inside out. "But…?"

"I'm just wondering."

Len waited patiently (patiently for him anyway) and realized Geoff was going to make him tease out whatever was on his mind. It was a small price to pay after witnessing the miracle he'd just pulled off. "Wonderin' what?"

He finished drying his hands and looked at him quizzically. "Why didn't you step in? This was _your_ case. I mean, you spent months poring over the literature, you contacted Healers for consultations, you drilled us relentlessly and prepped us to handle every contingency…"

"I know I did, which is why I knew you could take care of the delivery." It was true—he'd just seen it with his own eyes.

"But what about the publications?" M'Benga asked. "I know it wasn't your main concern but don't insult me by denying you never thought what it'd be like: the articles for the journals, the conferences, the accolades…"

Ah, so that's what was worrying him; Geoff thought he was upset with him for being the one to deliver the baby. Far from it in fact. Len couldn't be prouder of his people. "I did think about it. So?"

The other man scowled. This was the first time he'd ever seen M'Benga truly angry and it was proving to be a very interesting study. "Doctor McCoy, please don't toy with me. I may be young but I'm _not_ naïve. I know how things like this work, I've heard what happens on other ships."

Or maybe he was wrong. "What happens on other ships?"

Maybe Geoff didn't believe him, maybe he was just shocked or maybe 17 hours with a laboring senior officer were finally catching up with him. Either way he snapped back, "Senior doctors steal their subordinates' work and claim it as their own. As if you don't already have your own reputation and awards…"

_Now wait right there_, he thought. Leonard knew he was many things but he was most certainly _not_ a thief. He'd earned his reputation by the sweat of his brow and would continue to do so, thank you very much. It was time he set Geoff straight. "Doctor, you just delivered the second known Vulcan-Human hybrid in existence; more importantly you just delivered a very healthy little girl from a high-risk pregnancy to two very anxious, first-time parents. I think you're owed the recognition, don't you?"

M'Benga's eyes went wide. "I…well I mean yes I do, but that's not why I…"

He grinned, which was both rare and off-putting and stopped Geoff's spluttering right in it's tracks. "Relax; you've earned this. I'm not going to take it away from you and never had any intention to. This is all yours." The tension finally eased out of M'Benga's shoulders and the tiniest smile crept across his face. "Now come on, I've got a nice bottle of bourbon in my desk that has Baby Sachin T-…Baby Sa-…" Oh who was he kidding? No one except Uhura could pronounce that last name. "…Baby Spock's name on it. We'll raise a glass in her honor and yours."

The other man proudly shook his hand. "Thanks, Leonard. I was a little worried about what you might do."

"Nonsense! Besides, I figure I'll get the next one."

Geoff's attention was piqued. "The next one?"

His smile grew. "Hell man, did you not just see their faces? You don't really think the Lieutenant and Commander'll stop at just one kid, do you?"

They were barely out the door before everyone pounced.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.294, 1245. **"Well!"

"Ees everything ok?"

"How are they?"

"Give us the news man! Give us the news!"

Bones had the audacity to laugh—LAUGH—right in their worried faces. When he finally got his breath back he gestured to M'Benga. "Geoff?"

Smiling broadly the other man declared, "Gentlemen, the _Enterprise_ has a new crewmember and mother, father and baby are all doing just fine."

The cards got thrown up in the air and everyone just started whooping in relief.

Jim was glad too but he had more pressing matters on his mind. "When can I see them?"

Len, who'd been heading to his office with an arm around M'Benga's shoulders and one of Scotty's cigars in hand, whipped around at the question. "You do realize Uhura's just been through 17 hours of labor _without_ painkillers, right?"

Oh. Good point. "So…that's a no?"

He nodded. "Yes that's a no! Jesus, Jim…" Bones only took two steps before turning to glare at Scotty. "And while I appreciate the replicated Cubans don't none of y'all even _think_ about lighting them up in here. Understood?"

"Yes." They looked at one another rather glumly 'til Scotty cried out, "To Engineerin'!"

"To Engineering!" Sulu and Chekov echoed back, following the enthusiastic Scot out the door and into the hall, passing out cigars and crowing as they went. The whole ship would know the good news well before dinnertime. Chuckling to himself he turned around and picked up all the playing cards before settling down in Chekov's seat.

"You're not joining 'em, Jim?" Bones asked. He stood in the doorway to his office, M'Benga thinking out loud in the background while pulling 2 glasses down off a nearby shelf.

He shook his head. "No. I think I'll hang out here for a little while if that's alright with you."

"Alright." Len glanced back at M'Benga before asking, "Care to join us?"

Again Jim just shook his head. Now was their time to celebrate, not his. "Maybe later."

The Doctor nodded. "Suit yourself."

Sickbay quickly settled back down into it's normal routine; ill or injured crewmembers limped in for treatment, doctors and nurses scuttled about treating patients, checking supplies and dispensing meds. Soon no one paid any mind to their captain sitting at the makeshift table in the corner and after shuffling the deck he carefully laid the cards out and began a game of solitaire.

After all, it wouldn't be the first time he waited around for a girl.

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.294, 1436. **Christine came in to check on her patients. A quick glance at the bed showed Nyota was still resting comfortably but the bassinet beside her was empty. Her heart skipped a beat before she turned and spied the Commander sitting off in the corner with the babe in his arms. She watched with tears in her eyes as he gingerly traced the delicate tip of her ear with his finger and peered with such intensity into that tiny face…she'd have to remember to get a capture off the security vids later for her friend.

"Commander?" she whispered.

He did not stop staring at his daughter. "Yes?"

"Sir, I know it's not my place, but I just thought you'd like to know that there's someone waiting to see you outside. In fact, he's been waiting rather patiently for the last two and a half hours…"

Finally he looked away from the sleeping newborn's face. "Who is the visitor, Nurse Chapel?"

"It's Captain Kirk, Sir."

A flicker of emotion crossed his face at that, so brief that if she hadn't been staring right at him she'd have missed it, but she couldn't read what it was. Spock sat there a moment in contemplation then pulled the blankets closer around his daughter before rising to his feet. "Very well then."

She expected him to hand the baby back over to her care but instead he marched right out the door.

* * *

><p>"Captain."<p>

He started at the voice, having started to drowse sitting upright, and blinked into the bright lights of sickbay to see Spock standing straight as an arrow before him.

And in his XO's arms was a small bundle wrapped in a white and pink hospital blanket.

"Spock!" Everyone within earshot shushed him and he felt the blush creep into his cheeks. Suddenly Jim felt awkward and unsure of himself. He'd been waiting around for hours and for what? It's not like the baby would remember meeting him. And what was he supposed to say?

"Is this your daughter?"

The Vulcan shot him the equivalent of a 'Duh' look and Jim choked back his laughter. That one sign alone let him know that Spock was well and truly back. _Welcome home_.

"This is indeed my daughter," Spock finally answered. Peeling back the blankets he allowed him to get a good look at the baby and Jim had to admit he'd never seen a prettier child. She had a thick head of dark curly hair that just grazed the tips of her ears and he saw that she had her father's eyebrows and her mother's long eyelashes. She was going to be a heartbreaker when she got older, he just knew it.

"Would you like to hold her?"

His head shot up like a deer caught in the headlights. "A-are you sure? I mean, I've never held a baby before, especially not a newborn, and I…"

"I am certain that no harm will come to her while she is with you, Jim." The familiarity and trust reinstated his confidence and very carefully the baby was transferred into his arms. Looking down at her he was filled with nothing but wonder.

"Wow."

"I concur with your assessment."

He turned and took a few steps away, marveling at the little girl he held. "So what's her name?"

Spock tilted his head. "That is something her mother and I have yet to discuss." He looked down at his daughter and Jim swore he _almost_ smiled.

"Care to entertain a suggestion?" he asked mischievously.

"Of course." Jim was about to respond when he got cut off with, "However, Nyota and I are both in agreement that she will not be named after you." This time he _definitely_ saw the twinkle in his friend's eyes. He let out a soft laugh.

"Fair enough. Well then I'm fresh out of ideas." He peered down at Spock and Uhura's baby. "Hey there, little one! I'm your Uncle Jimmy! We're going to have lots of fun together you and me, just you wait…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.294, 1522. **She was still exhausted and oh-so-sore but the hand shaking her by the shoulder was insistent. She could sleep for a week and _still_ be tired, that's how exhausted she was, but the other person wouldn't leave her alone. _"Nyota," she heard Spock whisper against the back of her mind. "Forgive the intrusion but our daughter requires sustenance. Nurse Chapel is insisting that breast milk is best."_

What? Daughter? Feeling her belly, she noticed the swell of it was diminished and she dazedly opened her eyes. She hadn't even been moved out of the delivery room when she'd fallen asleep.

"Allow me to assist you."

Spock transferred their daughter out of his arms and into Christine's then helped Nyota into a sitting position. After a few false starts and some suggestions from Chris they finally got the baby to latch on and her friend drifted toward the door. "I'll be right outside if you need anything."

She stroked the cheek of their suckling little girl. Nyota was overwhelmed by a sense of awe and pride that was not entirely her own. Looking over at her husband she saw him staring at the two of them and she smiled wanly. "This is going to take some getting used to."

He raised an eyebrow. She had expected him to take her quite literally and yet heknew she wasn't speaking merely about breastfeeding; his response told her so. _"I understand."_ He began to dampen the connection and withdraw from her mind.

"No! Don't do that." Her arm darted out and she grabbed his hand, forcing him to look at her. "Don't ever do that."

"As you wish."

The baby shifted and stopped and Nyota turned her focus back to her to help her finish her dinner. Spock's gaze did not waver.

"Come on, Sweet Pea, you can do this," she cooed.

"Sweet Pea?"

Nyota smiled. His incredulity, both spoken and not, was just so Spock-like and it felt so _good_ to have everything sorted out and have him home again. "It's just a term of endearment. I was trying it out."

"Understood." The baby finished nursing and once she was burped he momentarily took her back in his arms so that she might close up her blouse. As she did so she could sense his amusement and alarm as he repeated the Sweet Pea appellation again in his head. He really didn't like it and she chuckled in the face of his distaste.

When Nyota was through she held her arms out for the baby and he transferred her back before settling in his chair beside the bed. "What shall her name be?"

Oh. Right. She looked over again at their baby girl. She had the middle name all picked out but the first name was proving to be a challenge. Over the last few weeks she'd whittled the list of potentials down to a chosen few with the idea that once she saw her daughter she'd just know. Now that she was here she stared into the baby's eyes and realized she didn't look like a T'Pala or a T'Janik at all.

_"Illogical as your reasoning is I do concur. T'Mona does not suit her either."_

_"No," Nyota agreed with a sigh. "It doesn't." _She began to fear their newborn would be nameless for awhile.

Spock brought his chair closer to the bed and cupped the crown of the baby's head. "If I may make a suggestion?"

She smiled and craned her neck to him for a kiss. "Of course."

He grinned across the bond and at the same time unveiled a small bit of subterfuge he had committed over the last several weeks. He'd been leaving their bed in the middle of the night to do research…on African baby names.

* * *

><p><em><strong>New Vulcan Colony,<strong>_** Stardate 2261.293, 1905 hours local time. **It was not unusual for Sarek to be working on 2 things at once which was why when his in-box chimed he pulled open the missive without even looking at it, focusing instead on the PADD in his lap. Few humans of his acquaintance were ever punctual and he had been expecting the re-negotiated trade agreements from Earth 3.4 hours ago; now they were here yet he had already moved on to editing his proposal for the Council instead. Absently he clicked open the attachment while finishing up and when he finally stopped and looked up the sight that met his eyes took his breath away.

The sleeping face of his first grandchild greeted him on-screen and he instantly ascertained that she was the most beautiful creature he ever beheld; even Amanda would have agreed. The swaddled up babe was most certainly a daughter of S'Chn T'Gai not only because she had her father's ears or her mother's coloring but because in the next image Sarek opened he saw that she had her grandmother's eyes.

After the 20 images of the infant alone there were 12 photos of Nyota in various poses holding the child, tired but beaming as she alternately stared at her daughter and back at the camera. There was but 1 image of Spock holding his child, most likely taken without his knowlege as he held the baby out before him for inspection; and though his face betrayed nothing Sarek saw the wonder clearly in his son's eyes.

The final photo was of the three of them together. It was an image he hoped to see repeated many times over in the future.

No sooner had he gone through the batch of images for a second time when the comm unit chimed. Spock greeted him with the closest thing to a smile on his face and said, "There is a new life for the clan. S'chn T'gai T'Alora Amadika was born on 2261.294 at 1228 hours and is in good health, as is Nyota."

Sarek was about to comment on his ko-fu-il* when his son added, "And I have also been cured."

_Astonishment joy pride relief gratitude happiness _flooded the bond between them, rendering Sarek speechless. The small smile on Spock's face grew. "Samekh, I believe you are in need of a Healer or perhaps, at the very least, a mirror."

A mirror? He turned to the window and caught his reflection in the glass; his visage was identical to that of his son's but he was too full of happiness to care about his lapse in control. "I am in full health and am not in need of a Healer at this time."

"I am relieved." Amusement twinkled in his eyes.

Sarek stared at the image of his son holding his daughter again. It reminded him of the first time he had held Spock.

_The Healers had gone and the house was quiet. Night had fallen and Amanda, who had been dozing off and on since the birth, was once again asleep, this time in their room. He stood at the foot of their bed like a sentinel marveling at all she had endured to produce a child when the first thin cries of their son directed him to the bassinet in the corner._

_ He knew what he had to do_—_pick up the child, determine what it needed, provide for it and soothe it before it's cries reached a decibel that woke Amanda_—_and_ _yet he hesitated. Sarek examined his dilemma and determined he was afraid. S'chn T'gai Sarek, son of Skon, who had stared down Romulan war parties without breaking a sweat, was afraid of his own child. This pregnancy, like the ones before it, had been fraught with peril and uncertainty for it's duration_; _now that their son was here he realized his concern throughout Amanda's confinement masked his subconscious fears that he would be an inadequate father._

_ He looked at Spock again whose tiny mouth was now puckered in a wail, and there was Sarek's proof; he __was__ ill-equipped to be a father to such a remarkable child._

_ The cries grew and, fearing his wife would wake, Sarek tentatively leaned over the bassinet and gently scooped the newborn up. Spock's wails stilled in surprise and all 3602 grams of him settled nicely into the crook of his arms. Not knowing what else to do he tucked the blankets up tight under his son's chin and crossed the threshold out onto the upper balcony where the bright lights of Shi'Khar shone off in the distance. Spock began to squirm at the blast of cool night air, his tiny face scrunched up in anticipation of another good cry._

_ "Spokh." Amazingly the newborn paused and turned to him with a question in his eyes. The love that shot through Sarek in that instant was profound and impermeable; he felt what had eluded him all afternoon_—_what had eluded him for the last 11 months really_—_and that was a deep, abiding bond with his child. His earlier hesitation over whether or not to retrieve Spock from the bassinet was foolish; there was no place else he wanted his son to be but safe in his arms, forever._

_ "Be at peace, my son. All is as it should be."_

_ Amanda crept up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head between his shoulder blades. "You're so good with him." She placed a soft, feather-light kiss on his shoulder. "Just like I knew you would be." _

Examining the image of Spock now, Sarek saw that his son had not suffered from the same self-doubt as he had upon entering the world of new fatherhood; indeed, Spock had been enamored of his daughter from the first. The bond was set and Sarek was happier than he believed was Vulcanly possible. "T'Alora," he began, "Is a very aesthetically pleasing child. I believe she is very much like her mother in that respect."

"I also agree."

He looked at the live feed of his son and at the still image of his granddaughter and was again filled with wonder; they were each such precious gifts and pieces of Amanda that she had left behind…

"Father, I—my recent behavior—it was…that is I would like to…" With eyes cast downward Spock paused, cheeks burning emerald with shame.

Now Sarek did not pause. His son's prior behavior toward him was not undeserved and he would not have him continue to suffer because of it. "Say no more, Spock. The past is past; now is a time to focus on the future." His joy was such that he almost smiled some more. "Tell me more about my granddaughter."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise, <strong>_**Stardate 2261.299, 1316 hours.** "Oh isn't she just adorable!"

"She is cute as a button!"

"Look at those eyes, aren't they gorgeous? Such long lashes…I'd kill for lashes like those…"

"You are just too cute, T! I could just eat you right up!"

"May I hold her after Janice?"

Spock seized the opportunity to rescue his daughter before any cannibalistic harm might befall her. "No," he calmly replied in the face of Ensign Zenaub, "You may not." Breaking away from the men gathered around him he strode over and carefully plucked T'Alora from Yeoman Rand's arms. There were soft sighs of disappointment from all the women save Nyota who sat there beaming at him.

If he was following her train of thought correctly then she apparently found the sight of him holding their daughter to be incredibly pleasing and even a bit of an aphrodisiac. Perhaps he should have employed this tactic earlier when suggesting they put off such a gathering of their friends and colleagues to a much later date. His adun'a, however, was adamant that they host this party now.

_"Spock, they just want to share in our joy. Everyone's been so supportive of us through everything and they just want a chance to meet her. Besides, I'm able to get around well enough and I promise not to do anything too taxing…"_ she had pleaded.

He relented, as she knew he would, though Spock was happy to wrangle a few concessions from her: namely paring down the guest list to a select few and restricting the gathering to no more than an hour and a half. 16.45 minutes in, however, he realized he had not won anything; he wanted their friends to leave much sooner than they would and yet he inexplicably knew they would be staying long after the imposed end time.

"Ah, look at the wee one!" Lieutenant Scott crooned over his shoulder. He came around and peered down into T'Alora's face "Such an enchantin' child ye have, Commander, absolutely enchantin'. And I'm sorry to have to disappoint you but I think I see a future engineer in the makin'…and I would know," he added with a wink.

Before he could reply the Captain came and joined their group, clasping the engineer hard on the shoulder. "Scotty, you think everyone should be an engineer. Hell, the first time you met me you thought _I_ should be an engineer!"

"Aye, I did, and I still do—if'n this cap'n gig dinnae work out for you in the long term, that is."

The Captain laughed and was about to bite into the sweet roll—a Vulcan delicacy typically offered to guests after a child's naming ceremony—when the Doctor stayed his hand and scanned the food. With a nod he released Captain Kirk and set his tricorder aside. "Never can be too careful with you."

"Dammit Bones, are you ever _not_ on duty?"

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not a light switch. You can't just turn me off and on when it suits your whims." Here the Doctor glanced his way and added, "Besides, if I weren't for me always bein' prepared you'd be dead a dozen times over. Like that time you ate the shellfish at that banquet on Andrell!"

"That is incorrect, Doctor; the incident you are referring to took place on Acquefor, not Andrell."

The Doctor met his level gaze. "My mistake…"

"It was a deliberate error on your part so that you would have reason to test my mental acuity. Do you now have sufficient data to compare to your previous results or would you prefer to query me again?" Spock looked down at the tricorder that was still activated and held loosely by the Doctor's side. Sheepishly, McCoy snapped it shut.

"Told you he'd catch on." The Captain smirked.

"Shut up. I'm only lookin' out for him since he can't be trusted to do it himself…like somebody _else_ I know!"

Thankfully, Spock was saved from the escalating bickering by a cry from T'Alora. Allowing her to grasp his finger he determined that her diaper was in need of changing and strode off toward the nursery to see to her. Upon his return he found Nyota waiting for him with Chekov and Sulu by her side. "Spock, the boys were just asking me about her name and I thought perhaps you could enlighten them."

A simple, straightforward request, but something else was afoot—that much, at least, he could tell from across the bond—but he could not pinpoint what her end game was; all he could sense was his wife's delight. "Of course," he replied. She held out her arms and took the baby before heading back to the sofa, leaving him to answer the 2 men.

"T'Alora's name comes from the name Alora, originating from the Earth African continent in the country formerly known as Botswana. Simply put, Alora and means 'My dream'. As she is our daughter and therefore our dream we amended the appellation with the Vulcan prefix in acknowledgement of her heritage, thereby making the name her own."

Sulu nodded thoughtfully and sipped his drink as Nurse Mackenzie sidled up and slipped her arm through his.

"And Amadika? Vhat does her middle name mean?" The decibel level in the room decreased by 5.3% as the others attempted to listen in.

From across the bond Nyota sent him wave after wave of love as their daughter grasped her finger, such tiny movement only feeding the happiness loop. "Amadika was a name chosen for her by her mother. It is also African in origin and means 'Beloved'. We named T'Alora such in honor of my late mother."

The nurse went slack jawed and now all conversation in the room stopped. "That…that's beautiful, Commander."

"She's a lucky little girl to have you and Nyota for parents," Sulu added.

Spock was about to state that luck had nothing to do with T'Alora's conception when Nyota silently chided him to stop and simply enjoy the compliment as it was intended. "Thank you," he replied, eyes once again seeking out his wife. When her eyes met his her smile broadened to it's absolute limits. "We could not agree more."

* * *

><p><em><strong>U.S.S. Enterprise<strong>_**, Stardate 2261.363, 1457 hours. **The weeks following T'Alora's birth found Nyota settling into a new routine; not that anything about life with a newborn was routine but it eventually became the norm. After the initial shock of motherhood wore off it was an endless cycle of burpings, feedings and changings—the sheer number of outfits T'Alora went through in a day was staggering in and itself. Still, she never tired of their little girl, just as she never tired of watching Spock with her.

Shortly after Sarek's visit she go the all-clear from Len and went back on half-duty. Parenthood was a juggling act but it was one she was equipped to handle. It helped that the crew was as enamored with their daughter as she and Spock were, for although they'd been few and far between there were times when they needed an extra set of hands to help out. Chris and especially Janice were always at the ready to watch T'Alora if her and Spock's shifts happened to overlap, and that was nice.

Still, something was missing. She tried not to dwell on it but as the days and weeks passed it just ate away at her until she couldn't _not_ ignore it. Ever since his recovery Spock had been treating her differently and Nyota didn't like it at all.

The link was always open, that was true, yet he kept his distance from her physically. She missed the way he used to take hold of her hand when they were both sitting on the sofa reading their PADDs or trail after her throughout their quarters seeing to her needs. True, she wasn't pregnant anymore and she wasn't an invalid—she could take care of her needs on her own—but still, it was nice seeing these small, physical gestures on his part that showed that he cared. Apparently she'd gotten too used to them.

Stepping out of the kitchen she chomped on her celery stick and looked down at her shirt front in dismay. Perhaps _her _physical appearance was part of the problem. Maybe Spock was no longer attracted to her and that was why he kept away. No doubt parenthood had changed him too and she'd heard enough stories of other marriages crumbling apart after the birth of a baby not to see the signs.

Nyota looked over to see him sitting at his desk working on a project on his PADD. Should she approach him with her concerns—no, it was foolish, she was just being emotional, she should leave it be. Besides, she saw how much he loved T'Alora, and wasn't that enough?

* * *

><p>For the last 3.2 weeks Spock had become aware of his adun'a acting in a most disconcerting manner. Although the bond was always open her thoughts were myriad and disorganized and if she was not broadcasting directly to him he was not always able to pick up the thread and discern her needs. Tonight especially as she exited the kitchen and paused, sighing as she smoothed down the front of her t-shirt, he attempted to access the bond and tease out the source of her displeasure; however, she swiftly cut him off.<p>

_Ashal-veh,_ he asked, eyes seeking hers from across the living room, _Please, do not hide from me._

Biting her lower lip Nyota slowly allowed him into her thoughts. He saw the two of them through her eyes: holding each other in their quarters before he beamed down to Kerrali; on the sofa, relaxing and engaging in ozh'etsa after a long work day; rubbing her swollen ankles and feet before T'Alora was born.

She _missed_ his caresses; she desired them. And foolishly, in a post-natal fit of melancholia, Nyota believed she was the cause of their absence, which was far from the truth.

Since the bond had been re-forged he had forgone the intimate physical contact in favor of (for what was to him, at any rate) the _more_ intimate mental one; as it turned out he had been sorely remiss in his duties as her husband. She was human; she required physical contact as much if not more than mental contact, and as the Vulcan son of a human mother he should have recognized that.

Sensing his wife's regret and feeling a hormonal surge coming on he watched Nyota turn away, ostensibly to check on their daughter and spare him any undue emotional display. Rising from his desk he caught her before she could make it to the nursery.

"K'diwa…"

"I'm…I…" she cried, sniffling and wiping away the tear that spilled down her cheek. "I have everything I ever wanted and now I'm…I'm…I shouldn't _want_ more, should I? Never mind, that's rhetorical, I know I'm being stupid I know…"

He brought his hands up to her psi points to enhance the bond. "_I am the one who has been obtuse, Nyota. To paraphrase the Earth poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning I love thee, and I intend to show thee in numerous ways._" Spock easily scooped her up in his arms then, eliciting a nervous giggle from his bride before carrying her off down the hall.

"Spock!" she cried. "Spock, we can't! What about T'Alora, she…"

"Her nap should last approximately 35.8 minutes longer and she will not be aware of our absence for the duration that we are occupied," he replied, soundly shutting the door behind him. "And I believe we will be occupied for quite some time."

He proceeded to nuzzle her neck and lay her softly down on the bed, prepared to make any and all reparations necessary—and apparently she was of a like mind to permit him.

* * *

><p>*ko-fu-il-Vulkhansu for granddaughter<p> 


	18. Epilogue

**A/N: **The end! I couldn't get this last bit out of my head so I had to write it down and voila, here you go! Thank you all for taking the time to read and review over the last 18 chapters; it's been a pleasure writing for you all and maybe I'll be able to do so again in the future. Now enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Epilogue<strong>

_**U.S.S. Enterprise, **_**Stardate 2264.220, 0513. **His heat against her backside was only mildly oppressive as they lay together naked on the pallet, their legs entwined. She was sore in places she didn't know she_ could _get sore; and even though Spock seemed to be resting peacefully behind her she didn't dare relax because inevitably just as she dozed off he'd be on her again. Still, she'd signed up for this the minute she fell in love with Spock (even if she didn't know it at the time), although that didn't make it any easier to bear now. When he first pitched Pon Farr to her the idea of a 5-7 day love fest with her husband sounded absolutely divine but now that she was in the middle of it Nyota found it was far from reality.

But if this was what it took to save his life then it was a sacrifice she was prepared to make. Next time, however, they'd be better prepared. Restraints, she'd definitely have to look into better restraints, and some extra dermal regens and hydration hypos too.

Just then he stirred against her and she braced herself for another round only to find his hand moving languidly from her shoulder to her hip and back again, tracing patterns as it went. He was being more playful then he'd been in recent days and for a split second she worried that she hadn't done her duty. "Ashayam?"

"Be at peace, Nyota. The fever has broken." Now she really did relax and she turned over so they were face to face. His eyes twinkled and his smile was bright. "In a few hours I should be well enough that we may return to T'Alora and to our quarters."

"T's fine," she replied, stroking the side of his face. He looked very dashing with a few days' worth of stubble on his chin and his hair in his eyes; her appraisal transferred across the bond and made him smirk and raise an eyebrow. "She's been staying with Len and Chris and I've been checking in. If anything after this she may want us to go away more often; apparently she can 'out-logic' her Uncle Bones into extra dessert more easily than she can her Daddy."

Spock smiled and leaned in close, cradling the side of her face as their foreheads touched. "T'Alora is cunning, just like her mother. Also, her use of logic has improved a great deal, as her previous attempts at procuring more after-dinner sustenance through me has been met with varying degrees of success in recent weeks."

Nyota sighed and snuggled in deeper against her husband's chest. "Mmm, sounds like our kid. With my good looks and your logic…"

"T'Alora will be quite formidable as she matures, yes," he finished for her. Spock sent thoughts her way of him using his suus mahna to fend off young men once their daughter reached adolescence. He did not relish the idea in the slightest and she laughed at a prospect that was still years in the making.

Suddenly his mood shifted and he tensed; reaching a hand up to her psi point the delved deeper into her mind before retreating just as quickly. Easing her out of his embrace and back onto the mattress Spock sat up. "You are in need of medical attention. I must page Doctor McCoy."

"Spock, I'm fine," she protested, grabbing his wrist before he could stand. The stiffness in her shoulder made her wince, not helping her argument at all. One eyebrow rose slowly to show he was not convinced. "Ok, maybe I'm not _fine _fine, but it's nothing some water and a few muscle relaxants can't help heal. Truthfully I think we both came out of this a lot better than we thought we would."

He nodded. "Indeed we have, which is why I must page Doctor McCoy. The objective has been reached."

Maybe it was the exhaustion or maybe it was just watching the cool Vulcan mask slip back into place but Nyota could not figure out what he was talking about. "Objective? What objective?"

He sank back down onto the pallet, cradling her cheek with one hand while placing the other over her abdomen, showing her a faint white light.

"A baby?" T'Alora's conception had been a 1 in a million shot—_1 in 417,967_, Spock mentally corrected her—and though they'd touched on the subject of having another child in the time since their daughter's birth they realized it wouldn't be easy. In fact the odds of them successfully conceiving another child, even during Pon Farr, were astronomical.

"Assuming all goes well with this pregnancy T'Alora will become an older sister by the middle of next year; which is why the Doctor must be called in at once." Spock stroked her cheek, marveling with her at their latest creation, before striding over to the comm unit on the opposite wall. He was nothing if not devoted to her and to their family's well-being.

She brought both hands down to her still-flat stomach in total awe. "Another baby…"


End file.
